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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25576603">Love Is Like an Ocean</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/hariikokoro/pseuds/hariikokoro'>hariikokoro</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>One Direction (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Mermaids, Coral Reef Restoration, Fluff, Human Louis, M/M, Mermaid Harry, POV Louis Tomlinson, Paradise Island, Smut, Tropical waters, mermaid au</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 03:15:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>23,054</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25576603</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/hariikokoro/pseuds/hariikokoro</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The curls dip back underwater, and the boy glides closer. Then, not more than two metres away from Louis, he emerges again, only half of his face above the water. He keeps bobbing above and below the surface almost comically. Where Louis would have to blink constantly to keep the saltwater from his eyes, this creature, the boy, doesn’t seem to have such a problem.</p><p>“Hi,” Louis says, so softly it’s almost a whisper. “It’s okay. I’m not gonna hurt you.” </p><p>-</p><p>Louis's just tending to his coral regrowing project when he meets a creature of the deep blue.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>71</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>The story happens on the island of Syawla, which is a completely made-up place I located somewhere in the middle of the Southern Pacific Ocean. Syawlian is the local language. </p><p>I did some research on regrowing corals and tried to make those bits as accurate as I could just for the fun of it. However, I have no idea how actual marine life research is conducted so take those (very briefly mentioned) bits with a grain of salt (somewhere out there is a marine biologist groaning in agony).</p><p>Anyways, in the end, everything here is made up and the points don’t matter. This is all fiction and reflects in no way upon the real lives of the people mentioned.</p><p>Lastly, to get you in the mood and ready for the tropics, check out my <a href="https://hariikokoro.tumblr.com/tagged/coral-fic">coral fic tag on tumblr.</a></p><p>Cheers!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>But the sea</em><br/>
<em>                        which no one tends</em><br/>
<em>                                                is also a garden</em><br/>
<em>when the sun strikes it</em><br/>
<em>                        and the waves</em><br/>
<em>                                                are wakened.</em><br/>
<em>I have seen it</em><br/>
<em>                        and so have you</em><br/>
<em>                                                when it puts all flowers</em><br/>
<em>to shame.</em>
</p><p>- William Carlos Williams, Pictures from Brueghel and Other Poems</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Louis always hates this part. It’s a perfectly silent, serene moment by the boat docks. Well, it’s not literal silence. There are sounds. An occasional screech of a seagull. The soft murmur of people chatting in the cafes along the seaside boulevard. The lapping of the water against the sandy shore and the wooden pillars of the pier.</p><p>It’s perfectly silent in the way that it lacks any unnecessary noise — a perfect harmony.</p><p>But Louis has to do this. There’s no other way to get to where he needs to.</p><p>He revs up the engine once, twice, and the dinghy spurs to life loudly, its roar blocking out all else from Louis’s ears. A seagull looks at him in judgement from its vantage point atop a flagpole.</p><p>Louis nudges his sunglasses back over his eyes and manoeuvres the dinghy away from the dock, picking up speed as he gets further out to the sea. The plastic boat cuts through perfectly calm, turquoise waters effortlessly. It’s a cloudless day, and Louis feels a breeze on his skin for the first time all day as the boat speeds through the waters.</p><p>For the next five minutes, Louis stares at the horizon. The bright blue of the sky bleeds into the dark greens of the deep ocean up ahead. Then the curve of the island’s shoreline becomes visible on his right, and it’s his cue to turn towards it.</p><p>There’s a fishing boat far up ahead, barely a dot on the horizon. Louis waves his arm nonetheless. If he hadn’t spent the past four months staring at similar dots in the said horizon, he wouldn’t be able to tell that the dot waves back. It does. Judging by the time and the location of the boat it’s probably Wayan, a local fisherman Louis had made friends with at the pub one night.</p><p>It’s only a minute after when the depth of the water under Louis’s dinghy starts to lessen noticeably. He slows his speed down, soft<em> put-put-put </em> of the engine propelling him over the underwater fields of vegetation and coral that colour the ocean floor in blotches of darker and lighter greens. There’s a gathering of large rocks up ahead, and when Louis’s about ten metres away from them, he knows to kill the engine.</p><p>Without the rocks, it would look like Louis has stopped over the deep sea, a good way away from the island’s shore. If someone were watching from the beach, they would probably assume there to be tens of metres of water below Louis and his boat. Only when one is at that exact spot can they see the sudden rise in the ocean floor, like an underwater platform. </p><p>Louis anchors the dinghy, making sure he doesn’t hit any of the vegetation. The plastic creaks under his bum while he hurries to get his reef booties on. The sun is already beating down mercilessly against the areas of his skin not covered by his t-shirt and swimming shorts. He discards his tee and sunglasses and hops over the edge of the boat.</p><p>Splash and a sigh of relief. There’s only enough water to reach him mid-thigh. He sinks to his knees and submerges himself completely for a moment, before standing up again with a gasp and swing of his wet fringe. He can almost hear his skin groaning in relief. Much better.</p><p>He grabs his red bucket, his snorkel and a bundle of clear zippy bags from the dinghy and sets to work. He wades through the water, his reef-boot-covered toes sending up soft puffs of sand around his steps.</p><p>Amidst the perfect, turquoise waterscape, Louis wonders yet again how did he get so lucky. How did he end up in Syawla, a small island sitting by it’s lonesome in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, where every scene is like from a postcard, of perfect white beaches and palm trees rustling in the ocean breeze, and crystal blue waters. The island is idyllic in every imaginable way, small enough to feel like a village but big enough to have lively seaside boulevards and market streets, resorts and even night clubs, catering to the continuous stream of tourists wanting a piece of paradise. Somehow, someway, Louis had landed a traineeship at the <em> Syawla Coral Research Laboratory</em>, as an assistant, with no prior knowledge in marine biology whatsoever.</p><p>Louis had been adamant on proving himself to be a quick learner. He’d picked up a lot during the first few months there. At first, his job tasks were mainly to organise samples at the lab and help the marine biologists with their daily work. The researchers themselves spent most of their time with their eyeballs attached to microscopes or their faces buried in research papers.</p><p>After a month at the lab, Louis had been trusted with his own little experiment - to start a coral regrowing project of his own, on the one condition that he would also gather samples and keep a meticulous record of the corals’ growth. </p><p>Louis's colleagues, the researchers at the centre, mainly study the vibrant marine life of the larger reefs laying deeper in the ocean. Compared to that, Louis’s project is a paddling pool, a coral kindergarten. Regardless, he’s ridiculously proud of what he’s doing. He’s helping baby corals grow, aiding the fight against reefs disappearing due to increasing amounts of environmental hazards and warming of the oceans. Even the smallest, most minuscule signs of development in his tiny coral colony always gives him satisfaction like nothing else. </p><p>The coral beds consist of four large metal frames that stand on the ocean floor like weird, gridded tables. Into the metal grids, small pieces of coral could be tied with some fishing line, in the hopes that the coral would slowly start to regenerate in its new home. </p><p>All of the four metal frames are now dotted with tiny pieces of coral in different colours, their hues growing more vibrant every day. What’s equally fascinating to Louis are the other creatures of the sea that they have slowly started to attract, small swarms of brightly coloured fish, even a tiny a crab and an occasional turtle passing by. </p><p>With a sigh, Louis pulls himself out of his daydreaming. He thinks he’ll never grow used to how magnificently beautiful the clear blue waters look like. When he’s done with his usual round of check-ups, gathering a few bits of samples and taking notes with his water-resistant notepad, he starts back towards his boat, wading slowly through the water. It is then that he noticed something, a flash of light, near the set of rocks further out to his left.</p><p>Something’s glistening. A white shape. Louis gasps. A <em> body</em>?! He looks to his left and right, behind and all around the rocks up ahead. There are no abandoned boats, broken kayaks or boards within sight. How has a person ended up in here without a vehicle?</p><p>Louis rushes towards his dinghy and dumbs his equipment inside. Without a second thought, he sets to a fast swim, gliding smoothly towards the rocks. He sputters to standing as soon as he is close enough. It looks like the person is resting on their elbows, leaning against the smallest of the rocks, their towards Louis.</p><p>“Hey!” Louis shouts. His voice is dry from disuse like sand heated by the sun. He clears his throat as he splashes towards the rocks, his next shout coming loud and clear. “Hey!”</p><p>The figure on the rock flinches and turns toward him. Wide, shocked eyes blink at Louis.</p><p>“Are you ok—“</p><p>Louis stops, dead in his tracks. There’s what looks like a young boy, can’t be much older than eighteen, with springy, short dark-brown curls framing his face. His chest and arms are pearly white, his skin reflecting sunlight so strongly that Louis almost has to squint when looking at him. His upper body is slim and his chest flat, rising and falling rapidly with his breaths. One of his long, slender arms is still holding on to the rock next to him, his body submerged in water from his narrow waist downwards.</p><p>But, at the place where his hips should disappear into some swimming trunks, there are scales. Shiny, green to blue to silver, glinting like diamonds in the sun, scales. There’s a slight swell where there absolutely <em> should </em> be the boy’s bum, and then, a massive tail narrowing towards the end until fanning out into a powerful looking fin, hints of purple amongst the blues and greens there. Louis's never seen anything more beautiful.</p><p>This is also the most severe sunstroke Louis has ever experienced. </p><p>The hallucination is so lifelike it’s most likely that he’s actually lying in his dinghy, unconscious, never even made it to the water that day. Hopefully, Wayan will spot his forgotten boat on his way back home. If it’s a bad fishing day, there might be a chance Louis isn’t beyond saving by then.</p><p>Louis scrunches his eyes closed, then opens them, as wide as they go. The boy is still there, still looking right at Louis in shock, frozen in place.</p><p>Then, in a flash and with a splash of a tail, he disappears under the water completely and glides out towards the deeper ocean.</p><p>“Hey, wait!” Louis shouts. He reaches his arm out uselessly and takes a few steps in the shallow water. “Please!”</p><p>To his utter astonishment, the boy stops. Wet mop of curls reappears above the surface.</p><p>“Please,” Louis says again, more softly. He takes another step, hypnotized, towards the figure.</p><p>The curls dip back underwater, and the boy glides closer. Then, not more than two metres away from Louis, he emerges again, only half of his face above the water. He keeps bobbing above and below the surface almost comically. Where Louis would have to blink constantly to keep the saltwater from his eyes, this <em> creature </em>, the boy, doesn’t seem to have such a problem.</p><p>“Hi,” Louis says, so softly it’s almost a whisper. “It’s okay. I’m not gonna hurt you.” He has no idea if the boy understands English or any language for that matter. But it’s the only language Louis knows, apart from a few broken words of Syawlian, and it’s his hallucination, possibly before he dies, so might as well try, right?</p><p>In a blink, the boy swims right near where Louis’s feet stand in the knee-deep water. He glides around Louis’s calves once, twice, wide eyes glancing up at Louis from below the surface. He stops right where Louis’s reef-boot covered toes are slowly getting buried into the soft sand. The boy hovers there, a gentle swing of his tail keeping him in place. Louis looks at the length of his body, at least two metres in total, from his curly-haired head to the tip of his tail.</p><p>He looks back down where the boy’s head is hovering by Louis’s toes. Louis’s dying to see his face, but he’s too scared to move a single digit so that he doesn’t startle him. So he looks at the cloud of curls, gently swaying in the water around the boy’s head. The boy moves a little and now appears to be studying Louis’s ankles from the side. Then, very slowly, the boy lifts his forefinger and touches a spot on Louis’s ankle, right where Louis knows his triangle tattoo is, just visible above the rim of his neoprene booties. The touch is soft and barely there, but a zip goes through Louis’s entire body.</p><p>The boy snaps his head up again in wide-eyed shock. There’s a firm smack of a tail against Louis’s thigh, and the creature has disappeared.</p><p>Louis blinks up ahead, then looks all around himself. There’s no sign of other lifeforms around him, what so ever. Just blue, blue water.</p><p>He stumbles back toward the coral beds and sinks to his knees. He proceeds to splash water onto his face, and then just slap his face with an open palm, hard, on both cheeks. It has no effect other than a slight tingling on his skin.</p><p>There’s still a phantom feeling of a soft fingertip against his ankle.</p><p>His way back to the dinghy and riding it back to the boat docks is a blur. He’s still not entirely convinced he’s conscious for any of it. He speeds back to the villa with his scooter and scares their household cat, Fat Kelly, sitting atop the stone fence surrounding the yard. To his relief, his housemate Liam’s already there at the driveway, tying a surfboard to the rack on his scooter.</p><p>“Liam!” Louis bellows, hopping off his scooter, even though Liam’s right in front of him. Louis hasn’t gone to take his samples to the lab as he should’ve and he’s still holding his red bucket. Water sloshes as he steps right up to him. “Slap me, Liam!”</p><p>“What?” Liam asks, looking up from his scooter. To Louis’s fury, his incredulous look turns into a humorous grin right away. “Did Zayn give you those mushrooms again? I’m telling you, that guy is no—“</p><p>“Liam, I’m serious,” Louis positively seethes. “Slap me. As hard as you can. This is important.”</p><p>Now Liam’s face turns concerned. He always looks a little stupid when he scrunches his eyebrows like that. “No. I’m not gonna slap you.”</p><p>“Come on, man,” Louis whines. “At least pinch me, come on,” he says, nudging his arm towards him.</p><p>“Okay…” Liam says slowly, not moving to do anything. Louis slaps him on the arm until he pinches the skin on Louis’s elbow.</p><p>“Harder!” Louis barks. Liam pinches him harder.</p><p>It stings. Properly.</p><p>Fuck.</p><p>Okay.</p><p>“Do these bags have pieces of coral inside of them?” Louis goes on, lifting a bunch of his sample bags from his bucket and brandishing them at Liam.</p><p>“Y-yes?” Liam stutters. He’s starting to look terrified. “Aren’t they supposed to?”</p><p><em> Fuck</em>. It means at least Louis went to the coral beds and came back, physical evidence of his trip right inside those innocent little bags.</p><p>Without giving Liam a word of explanation, he shoves his sample bags back into the bucket and stomps into the villa. Louis may be going clinically insane, but he’s not about to start explaining that to anyone. After all, there’s coral to grow.</p><p>He drinks a litre of ice-cold water, takes an equally freezing shower and sleeps, dead to the world, for the next twelve hours.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p>Louis has an agenda. He’s going to the market. He never goes to the market, at least not this one, where over-priced sarongs, plastic sunglasses and key chains are sold to tourists as ‘unique souvenirs’ (how can something be unique when everyone’s buying the same shit, Louis wonders yet again). But alas, today he has an agenda.</p><p>He honks the horn passing Auntie Sefina’s laundromat with his scooter. “Loo-eeeh!” she hollers after him, like always. Louis grins under his helmet.</p><p>At the market, Louis strolls past the stalls, past brightly coloured scarves and beaded bags and seashell ornaments, dodging tourists discussing their shopping and shouting at their children in a mixture of languages.</p><p>Right around the middle of the market street is what Louis is looking for. A glimmering of silver and gold. Earrings rattle against each other in the soft ocean breeze. Louis wanders around until he finds the right shelf, housing anklets in all colours and styles. Some are obviously for kids, with brightly coloured plastic beads in shapes of hearts and stars. Then there are the blatantly obvious tourist memorabilia, with the word Syawla carved into wooden beads or miniature surfboards.</p><p>Louis picks out two anklets from the more subdued options. One with white seashells tied together with pink, adjustable string. The other one has a thin silver chain with teeny-tiny turtle charms hanging all around its length like miniature coins. He haggles with the storekeeper with half an effort, mind already wandering out to the sea. His broken Syawlian still helps him much further along than he would’ve gotten a few months ago. He pays the clerk and carefully stores the items inside his water-proof sack.</p><p>Later, when he has reached the docks and climbed into the dinghy after just a couple of minutes of scooter-riding, he opens the sack and extracts the two pieces of jewellery from the bottom. It takes him a moment to untangle them before he can hook them around his ankles. He puts one in each leg - a miniature silver turtle rests against the triangle tattoo on his right ankle. He touches it with his fingertip and shivers.</p><p>He shakes himself out of his thoughts and pulls on his reef booties before revving up the engine. He takes his usual route out to the sea and towards the coral beds. This time, however, he slows the engine down much sooner than he usually would, not wanting to disturb anything… that could be disturbed.</p><p>While he throws the anchor overboard, he thinks about what his life will be like after he gets a medical diagnosis for his hallucinations. He takes a big gulp from his water bottle and ties his red batik scarf over his head in a makeshift hat before jumping out of the boat. This time, if he hallucinates, he will be sure it won’t be because of dehydration or heat exhaustion.</p><p>It’s not that he really even has to be here today. He gets paid to check the coral every two to three days, make his notes and collect samples. Technically, the rest of the time he’s supposed to be at the lab, helping the researchers. But he’s figured long ago sometimes he’s the best help by staying out of everyone’s hair. So really nothing is stopping him from making an extra round of check-ups.</p><p>With this excuse in mind, he grabs his snorkel, not even bothering with his bucket and notepad today. Trudging in the water, he swivels his head this way and that, checking the coast for signs of… anything.</p><p>There’s nothing. Nothing but clear blue water, lapping around Louis and against the rocks up ahead. The smallest rock furthest out is empty, no glimmering body resting against it. </p><p>Louis is decidedly not disappointed. Maybe one day, after three pints, he will tell his mates about the worst sunstroke of his life, the one that caused him to see things, things that aren’t real and couldn’t be. They will all get a good laugh out of it, and it will make a good story. Louis will go on with his life as a sane man.</p><p>He puts on his snorkel and glides into the water. He swims laps around the coral beds. He checks on the hermit crab and the clownfish on their respective pieces of coral. With nothing left to do, he swims back to his dinghy and drops his snorkel into the boat. He grabs his water bottle and swims out to the rocks, extending his arms and feet as far as they go with each pull he takes.</p><p>He climbs on to one of the smaller rocks where he can rest his back against one the bigger ones – nature’s very own armchair. He pops the cork of his water bottle open and takes a long swig. There’s a light breeze today, and it ruffles Louis’s headscarf. He takes off his neoprene booties and lets his toes dry against the warm stone. Long rays of sun tickle the skin of his chest and arms, beating down from a cloudless sky. Louis tilts his head back against the rock and closes his eyes.</p><p>Louis doesn’t know how long it’s been when there’s a splash. A splash that doesn’t fit the rhythm of the water lapping against the rocks.</p><p>He opens his eyes. At first, the scene in front of him looks precisely the same as it did when he’d closed them. Sun winks at him from the surface of the turquoise waters. A little to his left, a patch of seagrass sways with the current. Further out, his grey dinghy bobs with the lull of the sea, uninterrupted. He can see the spot of red that’s his bucket, stored at the back of the boat. Way out at the horizon is a small black dot, which Louis assumes is a catamaran or sailing boat, heading towards the bigger docks on the northern side of the island.</p><p>There’s a flash of green and purple, so sudden and so fast Louis’s sure he has imagined it. But then it happens again, right at the periphery of his sight to his right. Louis almost snaps his neck, turning his head too fast. In an instant, his heart pounds in his chest like thunder. His whole body tenses where he’s perched on the rock.</p><p>He keeps looking. And keeps looking. </p><p>Absolutely <em> nothing </em> changes in the scenery in front of him. Louis shakes his head, tension bleeding out of his body. If yesterday he hallucinated from a heatstroke, today he’s seeing things purely out of wistful thinking.</p><p>Literally from out of the blue, the boy appears. A long, slender body with a massive green tail swims past Louis’s rock.</p><p>It’s with great difficulty that he doesn’t yell. The boy disappears behind the rock to Louis’s left, then appears again from Louis’s right, swimming right past again. His body is facing the ocean floor, but he keeps turning his head, taking lightning-fast glances at Louis. If Louis blinks, he misses them.</p><p>The boy swims laps around the set of rocks where Louis is perched, and Louis sits, sits and stays silent. He wants to say something but the boy doesn’t break through the surface not once, and Louis’s too terrified of scaring him away. Louis does notice the speed of the boy swimming past him gets less and less with every lap, the boy daring to take longer and longer glances at Louis. Louis never looks away.</p><p>Then the boy stops. He stops right in front Louis, only a metre away, wet, dark hair plastered over his forehead, face above to surface only from the bridge of his nose upwards. He stares at Louis unblinking. Louis stares back. But he has to blink. He notices the boy has gills along the sides of his neck, filtering water in and out as he hovers on the spot.</p><p>“Hi,” Louis says, as soft as he can muster. Still, the boy flinches, his body nudging a couple of metres away from Louis like a terrified fish.</p><p>But he doesn’t swim away and disappear, which Louis considers a small victory. “It’s okay,” Louis says. “I won’t hurt you.” He realises he’s repeating his lines from yesterday.</p><p>The boy stays where he is. He blinks once, twice, much slower and much less regularly than Louis has to.</p><p>“Look,” Louis says. He slides his feet down the surface of the rock very slowly, bringing his toes right to the water’s edge. He points at his now decorated ankles.</p><p>The boy does one more of his slow, languid blinks. His eyes flicker between Louis’s face and where he’s pointing at his ankles. Then, slow like his blinks, he swims closer to Louis, stopping mid-way and then proceeding again. Louis concentrates on keeping his body still so hard he almost starts to vibrate. He takes a deep, quiet breath.</p><p>The boy’s head pops above the surface right by Louis’s feet. He stares up at Louis, eyes big and green, so green. Louis’s seen a tiger barb fish in the exact same colour, emerald and almost fluorescent. </p><p>The boy looks at Louis’s feet. His tail gives one rapid swish. Is that… excitement? The boy turns his head a little, first left, then right, observing the trinkets on Louis’s ankles, leaning closer and closer. Louis thinks of a jeweller inspecting diamonds, only without any of the tools. </p><p>A slender forefinger raises and pokes at the seashells on Louis’s left ankle. Then it trails the silver chain on Louis’s right ankle. The finger stops at Louis’s triangle tattoo. The goosebumps on Louis’s skin are so powerful he has to squeeze his eyes shut for a moment. A little ‘<em>guh</em>’ escapes his lips.</p><p>The boy snaps his finger away. When Louis doesn’t move, he traces the chain again after a while, stopping at one of the ornaments.</p><p>“Turtle,” the boy says.</p><p>Louis’s heart falls out of his chest and onto his lap. There’s no other explanation for the way he’s feeling. He doesn’t scream, he doesn’t flail or kick his leg out involuntarily. And that can only be because his heart is no longer pumping in his chest.</p><p>But someone who doesn’t have a heart shouldn’t feel so alive. At the very least, his vision should turn to black or blur at the edges. Louis sees in technicolour. It’s still debatable whether he’s conscious for this bit of the program, either.</p><p>“Y-yes, it’s a turtle,” he croaks. His voice isn’t his.</p><p>The boy blinks up at him. Then he looks back at the anklet. His lips purse. He has the most perfect cupid’s bow Louis’s ever seen. Did the painters of Italian Renaissance paint mermaids? They would’ve loved to paint this one.</p><p>Wait, mermaids? Is that what he is? A mermaid? A merman?</p><p>“Turtle,” the boy says again, touching a second, identical ornament. He speaks slowly, his voice surprisingly deep. “You like turtle?”</p><p>What? Yes, Louis likes turtles. Who doesn’t like turtles? Sea turtles are Louis’s favourite animals right after blue whales, both devastatingly endangered. “Y-yes?” Louis croaks again. He sounds oddly like a panicked Liam.</p><p>Most marvellous, wide grin splits the boy’s face. “Harry like turtle, too.”</p><p>Louis stares. Did he say Harry? No, it sounded more like a Ha-reh, or maybe Hari.</p><p>“Harry,” the boy repeats, touching his own chest with his palm.</p><p>Nope, definitely Harry. The boy of the underwater world has the most British name in existence. If Louis really is unconscious and imagining it all, is this where his brain decides to draw a blank in creativity? Like, really? Harry?</p><p>“Louis,” Louis says, touching his own chest.</p><p>“Loo-eh,” the boy, Harry pronounces, lips pursing into a perfect ‘o’.</p><p>“Louis,” Louis repeats. “Yes.”</p><p>“Looouiis,” Harry draws out. “Harry,” he says, pointing at himself, and “Louis”, pointing at Louis.</p><p><em> Me Tarzan, you Jane</em>, Louis thinks hysterically. God, he’s a goner. Beyond hope. He watches Harry study his feet again.</p><p>Even more than by the anklets, Harry seems entranced by Louis’s bare feet. Louis’s never had much of a thing for feet, and his own definitely have never been under such close scrutiny from another person before. Harry’s leaning so close, Louis’s wonders how his eyes won’t cross. Warm breath from his nostrils tickles the tops of Louis’s feet. Louis watches the crown of his head, dark curls already drying and springing up after having been under the merciless sunshine for mere moments.</p><p>Louis wiggles his toes.</p><p>There’s what can only be described as a giggle that erupts from Harry. He sinks his face halfway under the surface of the water again. His laughter causes an actual stream of bubbles to erupt.</p><p>Louis’s so endeared it’s threatening his sanity. It seems to be on the line a lot these days.</p><p>Louis pulls his reef booties back onto his feet and grabs his water bottle. Then slowly, very very slowly, he descends into the water next to Harry. He ends up sitting on his shins there, water reaching his armpits. Harry’s tail is lolling in the water, sending puffs of fine sand floating around them.</p><p>In a strange moment of connection, they both glide into a slow swim simultaneously, side by side. Louis has to make broad strokes with his arms and kick with his feet, slowed down by the way he has to hold onto his water bottle with his other hand. Harry’s able to swim effortlessly beside him with only a lazy kick of his tail here and there. They circle around the coral beds, Harry swimming around Louis in twists and turns.</p><p>When they reach deeper waters, Louis flips on to his back, floating with his arms and legs spread out like a star. Harry bops next to him, his face again half-submerged in water. His head nudges at Louis’s outstretched hand, then his elbow. Then his forehead bumps against Louis’s ribs, and then his thigh. He swims around Louis like he’s drawing the outline of his body with his forehead, his head bobbing in and out of the water at random places around him, nudging at him. Louis can hear him giggle, even through the water that’s blocking his ears. Louis has to stifle his own laughter, or else he’ll lose his balance and start to sink.</p><p>After a while, Louis’s realises he’s drifted close to his dinghy when it casts a shadow over his face. He throws his water bottle into the boat and uses the robe hanging from the side to lift himself up.</p><p>He only means to get in the boat so Harry could swim alongside him while he rows with the emergency oars. But Harry follows him, brows scrunched in determination, lifting himself up and into the boat with his arms. He tilts and flops into the boat, and they both fall into the bottom, tail and limbs tangling.</p><p>They both start cackling at the same time. When they catch their breathes, Harry says, “Harry visit boat. Harry visit Louis.”</p><p>God. Louis hopes Harry doesn’t think the cheap plastic dinghy is a representation of him as a sailor, as far as boats go. They settle so that they’re both sitting at the bottom of the dinghy, the end of Harry’s tail flopping over the edge. Harry’s scales make sharp snapping sounds as he slides against the plastic.</p><p>If Harry ends up poking a hole in the dinghy with his scales, then Louis is really in trouble. He knows even the bigger rocks out by the coral beds get almost entirely swallowed up by the high tide. But Harry’s looking around with the brightest smile on his face as if there isn’t next to nothing to see inside the boat, and Louis can’t bring himself to worry.</p><p>What he does think about is how Harry’s long torso is fully exposed now, fully on show for Louis to see in close proximity. They’re practically squished side to side inside the small inflatable, and Louis can see in great detail how droplets of water compete against each other in a race down Harry’s torso. Louis thinks the true winners dip into Harry’s belly button.</p><p>Christ. He needs to stop. He doesn’t even have any idea of how old this boy, this creature, is. What if he’s just a baby in merman years? He looks very young with his wide, innocent eyes and supple skin. But he also has a wide breadth of shoulders and lean, strong-looking biceps.</p><p>Louis needs to stop.</p><p>“Itch,” Harry says, rubbing the scales on his hip with his fingers.</p><p>“Is it?” Louis asks. He reaches his hand out to touch without thinking. The scales on Harry’s tail burn hot, like steel left in the sun. Louis yanks his hand back. “Oh shit!” he exclaims. “Harry, you’re burning up. You should get back in the water.”</p><p>“No,” Harry pouts, which would be adorable if Louis weren’t so worried about him practically sizzling in front of his very eyes. “Louis make wet,” Harry says, pointing at Louis white t-shirt, discarded at the bottom of the dinghy by Louis’s feet.</p><p>Right. Louis grabs his t-shirt and swiftly dunks it in the water, getting it soaked. He lifts it above Harry’s tail and squeezes all the excess water out, dripping it over Harry’s scales. He repeats the action twice more and then dunks the shirt in the water one last time before laying it over Harry’s hips. He unties the headscarf he’s been wearing and wets it too, laying it on Harry’s tail below his shirt. He even wets the small, worn-out rag he has for cleaning the dinghy and lays it next to his scarf. There are still small patches of Harry’s tail uncovered, but at least like this most of it is not exposed to the unforgiving sun.</p><p>“Better?” he asks.</p><p>Harry nods happily. “Louis good.” His expression looks almost fond when he looks at Louis. Something twists, sweet and painful, in Louis’s gut. </p><p>“Louis no itch?” Harry asks, touching Louis’s shoulder. His palm is big, covering Louis’s boney shoulder entirely. The contrast of his pale fingers against Louis’s sunkissed skin is mesmerising.</p><p>The truth is the sun is burning hot on Louis’s skin, making it feel dry and like it’s been pulled on too tight. Most of his sunscreen has probably washed off during all the swimming. Yet, “Louis no itch,” he repeats back to Harry, smiling reassuringly. </p><p>Louis looks at the gills on the sides of Harry’s neck. They’re unmoving now, both sets of soft lapels of skin just resting in place. Louis supposes they only function when Harry’s breathing underwater. The way his chest is moving makes it clear Harry must be breathing through his nose now, just like Louis is. Louis wonders how it is even possible, to be two things at once, a literal miracle in front of his very eyes. He wonders how all the necessary organs fit inside Harry’s slim frame.</p><p>Louis’s eyes snap back to Harry’s face. He realises Harry’s been watching him during his ponderings. Louis thinks of something to say, but it disappears somewhere on the way to his tongue. They end up just looking at each other in silence. It’s very easy for Louis to do that. Harry’s face is beautiful, and there’s detail after detail that Louis wants to spend ages studying. </p><p>Like the way his dark lashes frame his big, round eyes. His eyebrows are nice and shapely, with soft-looking hair as dark as his curls. His lips are so pink Louis would suspect lipstick of some sorts if he weren’t so close that he can see that’s not the case. It’s ridiculous. No one’s lips should be that pink on their own accord. And his hair is like a large fluffy cloud, framing it all. There’s a piece of hair by his ear that curls in perfect little loops like a tiny corkscrew.</p><p>He’s so beautiful it makes Louis feel a little stupid. Like his brain can’t quite keep up.</p><p>Out of nowhere, there’s a crackle of thunder in the distance. Louis twists his neck to peer over the side of the boat, and sure enough, there’s a gathering of dark rain clouds far out in the distance to their left. To their right, the sun is still ablaze on a blue sky. It’s hard to tell if the rain clouds are travelling towards them or not, still too far in the distance. Still, being out in the middle of the ocean with a possibility of getting caught in a thunderstorm is not the best of premises.</p><p>“Louis must go,” Harry says.</p><p>Louis almost wants to argue that he doesn’t care about risking being struck by lighting. But being struck by lighting would jeopardise his plans to try to meet Harry again, and he can’t have that.</p><p>“Do you know the lighthouse?” Louis asks, pointing towards the curved tip of the island far in the distance to their right.</p><p>Harry just nods.</p><p>“Meet me there, in the cove by the lighthouse, tomorrow, when the sun is like that?” Louis asks, pointing towards the sun in the sky. It’s just starting to travel down from its highest point, slowly towards the horizon. It’ll be at least two hours till the sundown if the thunderclouds don’t swallow the light before that.</p><p>Harry nods again, very eagerly. “Harry meet Louis,” he says. It really is enough, how adorable Harry is, as it is. The broken English gives him a very unfair advantage.</p><p>Louis helps Harry back into the water. For a moment, Harry just holds on the side of the dinghy, looking at Louis wordlessly. “Louis,” is all he says before sinking under the surface. Louis watches him swim into the distance until he’s sure he can’t see the glimmer of purple anymore. He lifts the anchor and revs the engine back to life.</p><p>When he reaches the docks and ties up his dinghy to the post, he notices something glimmering at the bottom of his boat. A scale, the size of a two-pound coin but half the thickness, shimmering in greens and blues and silver. </p><p>At night, Louis lays in his bed and tilts the scale in the moonlight streaming in from his window, and watches the colours dance. Here, in the darkness of his bedroom, in the palm of his hand, even if it never happens again, is a piece of physical evidence that meeting Harry was real.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p>By the time Louis parks his scooter by the old lighthouse, he’s not sure how he’d survived a full day of work at the labs. He’d practically been vibrating with anticipation, then anxiety, then disbelief, then anticipation again. In his moments of doubt – there had been many throughout the day – he’d dug out the scale from a leather pouch he’d tied around his neck, and stared at it in his palm until he believed it, and especially what it represented, to be real again.</p><p>He digs his picnic basket out from the compartment under his scooter seat and sets to a brisk walk down a stone stairway. The old lighthouse, long since forgotten and abandoned, sits on a cliff at the westernmost tip of the island. Unbeknownst to many local islanders and tourists alike, there’s a secret set of steps that descend down the side of the cliff and onto a small beach. No one ever uses it, and Louis had discovered it entirely by accident. It helps that the locals believe the lighthouse to be haunted. Whether true or not, Louis doesn’t really care. He’s ready to risk a ghost or two. In the privacy of the cove is where Louis hopes to meet Harry.</p><p>He hops over the last two steps, and his toes hit the sand with a soft thud. The small beach there is shielded by the rocky wall of the cliff on one side and a wild jungle on the other. There are fallen coconuts and some palm tree leaves scattered around the white sand. The sound of the water echoes back from the cliff above.</p><p>Louis walks right to the edge of the water. Blue uninterrupted ocean opens before him. There’s blue for as long as the eye can see, not even a single boat in sight.</p><p>There’s also no sight of Harry or any movement in the water. Louis can’t pretend that doesn’t make his chest constrict. He grips the leather pouch hanging from his neck. He can feel the edges of the sharp scale through it. He tucks the pouch inside his t-shirt and refuses to let anxiety overtake him. Not yet anyway. He looks up at the sky, the sun pretty much in the same position he had shown Harry yesterday.</p><p>Also, Louis had checked the time when he’d gotten back to the villa. He knows it’s getting around the time when they’d said goodbye with Harry yesterday. Of course, Harry doesn’t have a wristwatch at hand. Probably. Louis thinks wildly of a house like Spongebob’s, sitting at the bottom of the ocean. He shakes his head.</p><p>The water remains uninterrupted other than for its gentle waves. Louis sighs. He takes his picnic basket and sets it down in the middle of the tiny beach. He digs out a blanket he’d brought and lays it down, smoothing the edges and brushing off any runaway bits of sand. He plonks down in the middle of it, eyes firmly fixed at the horizon.</p><p>Then he gets up and walks around the beach. It only takes a few steps to cross from side to side. He kicks the sand around.</p><p>Then he goes to the edge of the water and kicks at the water. He digs his toes in the wet sand, as deep as they go, before slowly bringing his feet back up and watching the sand get washed away.</p><p>He crouches down and draws squiggly lines in the sand, watching them blur out with each new wave. He’s about to start digging a hole with a washed-up piece of wood when–</p><p>“Louis!”</p><p>Louis almost smashes his face into the sand. There he is, swimming happily and waving at Louis and holding a large spear, a bright red snapper fish lifeless in its spikes. Harry’s smiling widely.</p><p>“What on earth,” Louis mutters, astounded as he wades into the water towards Harry.</p><p>“I bring for Louis,” Harry says, his smile blinding.</p><p>Well. Louis never was a big fan of bouquets of flowers or boxes of chocolates.</p><p>This, however. “Thank you,” Louis stutters, taking the spear from Harry’s outstreched hand.</p><p>“Louis put fire,” Harry says, pointing towards beach.</p><p>“You want me to cook this?” Louis asks.</p><p>Harry nods eagerly. “For Louis.”</p><p>Louis’s laugh is breathless and involuntary. “Oh-kay,” he says, turning towards the store, examining the fish. “You, uh– should wait here, swim around, I need to gather some wood.” He looks over his shoulder, and Harry has already started to swim laps in the shallow waters, tail swishing happily.</p><p>Christ. What is Louis’s life even about?</p><p>He sticks the spear into the sand and starts trudging around the edges of the cove, picking up dry enough pieces of fallen branches. When he’s gathering the pieces, it dawns on him. This feels a little bit like a date. He’s brought a picnic blanket, and a basket of fruit and Harry has brought him a gift. Albeit it’s a fish, but it’s a gift. At least on Louis’s standards, this does feel like a date. He would, of course, have no idea what any of it is in sea creature standards.</p><p>It takes him a moment to gather enough wood and arrange them suitably for a campfire, a short but safe distance from where he’d laid his blanket. He’d also brought no matches, so he has to use the good old caveman methods to make fire.</p><p>Luckily he was a boy scout.</p><p>12-year-old him had no idea the skills would once come in handy when courting a possible son of Poseidon. If not a son of a god, Louis’s sure Harry is at least some type of a princeling in his underwater culture of fish people. There’s no way those curls don’t come from royal blood.</p><p>The fire starts to crackle. Louis grabs three towels he’d packed into his basket and jogs towards the waters’ edge.</p><p>“Harry!”</p><p>Immediately wet, dark hair pops above the surface up ahead. Harry swims closer until he’s right at Louis's feet in the shallows.</p><p>“Do you want to come up to the blanket for a while?” Louis asks, pointing towards the beach. He doesn’t know if this is a good idea at all, but it had worked pretty well at the boat last time. The first time. And this time, Louis has come prepared.</p><p>Harry blinks, then nods enthusiastically.</p><p>“Should I… do you want me to carry you?” Louis asks. </p><p>“Harry can,” is all Harry says before swimming right towards the shore until his hip digs into the sandy bottom, then continuing to pull himself up the beach with his arms. It looks kind of awkward, his big tail lolling behind him much less gracefully than in the water. But Louis’s also sort of captivated by the shift of his back muscles as Harry works himself up the beach and all the way to the blanket with his upper body strength only. Louis quickly dips the three towels in his hand into the water and jogs back after him. Harry’s settling on the blanket, in a half-sitting position, on the edge furthest from the fire. Louis does <em>not</em> stare at his ab muscles shifting.</p><p>“Is this okay?” Louis asks, sliding one of the towels over Harry’s tail and wiping away the sand clinging to his scales.</p><p>Harry nods. Louis isn’t sure if it’s light of the flames playing tricks on him or if there’s a slight rosiness to Harry’s cheeks. Louis shakes the sand off the towel he’d used for cleaning and then settles all three of them over Harry’s tail, covering it in its entirety in wet fabric. Harry visibly relaxes into the blanket.</p><p>Next, Louis hops up to grab the spear he’d left further down the beach to bring it closer to their makeshift campsite. When he takes it in his hand, he looks at it properly for the first time. It looks very modern. There’s a logo on the side of it. It’s definitely factory-made, and it’s definitely a high-end productive.</p><p>“Harry, where’d you get the spear?” he asks in amazement.</p><p>“We take from red man in big boat,” Harry says. If Louis didn’t know better he would say he sounds almost nonchalant. Louis probably doesn’t know better. Also, he has no idea what Harry’s saying.</p><p>“Red man in a big boat?”</p><p>“Yes, red man, big belly,” Harry says, gesturing in front his own flat stomach. “Red man don’t know to use spear. We take.”</p><p>“Wait… big boat? Like a yacht?”</p><p>“Yes,” Harry says, nodding.</p><p>“Oh my god,” Louis huffs out in laughter. He can picture it, a rich, white tourist, pink from sunburn and round from overeating, bringing out all the possible toys and tools just for the heck of it, having no idea how to even spearfish. And having his spear stolen by the fish themselves. Well, sort of.</p><p>Immediately when Louis laughs, Harry smiles. He probably doesn’t understand why Louis finds it funny, but it seems to please him nonetheless. Louis sticks the spear into the sand again by the edge of their blanket. He sits down cross-legged next to Harry.</p><p>“I brought you something, too,” he says. He opens the basket. “I wasn’t sure if you could eat it, but… there’s fruit. If you want to taste.”</p><p>Harry’s already peering into the basket before Louis’s finished speaking. It’s entirely too cute.</p><p>Louis takes all of them out and lays them out to the blanket. There’s mango, papaya, a kiwi and a starfruit and hairy-looking rambutans. Harry touches them all, gently, with the just tip of his slender forefinger, like they might open up and bite him at any moment.</p><p>To be fair, it’s probably the smart and safe approach to take underwater towards anything remotely edible.</p><p>It’s also kind of sensual, especially the way Harry runs his finger over the hairy-spiky skin of a rambutan. Louis refrains from clearing his throat.</p><p>“Do you want to taste?” he asks instead, digging out his jackknife from the pocket of his shorts. Harry eyes the knife with obvious curiosity, again wordlessly nodding.</p><p>Louis starts with what he thinks is the safest bet, the mango. Unlike the other fruit he’d brought fresh from the market, the mango he had brought it from home. It’s been sitting on his kitchen counter next to a dotted brown bunch of bananas and Louis know it’s finally the exact right ripeness for eating. He cuts it in half and removes the large stone from the middle. Harry grabs as soon as Louis sets it down on the blanket.</p><p>“Don’t eat that,” Louis says, just in case, but Harry just swirls the slippery stone between his fingers. Then he sets it down and continues to stare at Louis dicing the mango with vertical and horizontal lines so that each piece still hang on the skin of the fruit. Louis cuts off one dice and holds it between his fingers.</p><p>“Right,” he says, reaching towards Harry’s hand. “Here you go.”</p><p>But Harry just leans towards Louis with his whole upper body and parts his lips slightly, pink tongue appearing.</p><p>Okay. From anybody else, Louis would think this is blatant flirting. Downright seducing. But Harry’s face is a picture of honest innocence, huge green eyes blinking up at Louis. He lifts the dice of mango to Harry’s lips. Louis feels just the barest hint of a tongue against his finger when Harry takes the piece of fruit into his mouth.</p><p>Harry chews, his face remaining expressionless. Then his eyes widen, just a fraction. He swallows. Abruptly, he leans towards Louis even more and opens his mouth again, wide, pushing his tongue out all the way now. “Ah, ah,” he says, like a child at the dentist's.</p><p>“Alright,” Louis says, laughing. So mango is a success. He cuts another dice, larger this time, and feeds it to Harry. He feeds him six large dices and eats some himself until Harry points at the papaya between them. Louis starts cutting it up. Harry looks in wonder at the small black seeds revealed inside the fruit. He extracts one and squishes it between his fingertips. There’s a delighted, high sound from the back of his throat and he takes another one, squishes it too. Louis cuts a long thin slice of papaya and feeds it to Harry.</p><p>His whole face contorts in disgust. Right. Louis also thinks papaya is the arse of the fruit kingdom. And not in the fun way, either. At least now he knows Harry won’t fake delight just for Louis’s sake.</p><p>They swiftly move on to a kiwi. Louis peels the fuzzy skin off of the fruit like a potato and cuts a slice. Green juice drips down his fingers and onto the blanket. This time, Harry is a bit more apprehensive about opening his mouth, but his expression lights up immediately when he starts chewing. Louis feeds him the whole fruit, slice by slice until nothing’s left but a puddle of green on his palm. He swipes his hand onto the blanket. It’s Liam’s, so, whatever.</p><p>Next, there’s a starfruit. Louis cuts up a slice, a perfect little star. This time Harry reaches for it with his fingers. He holds it up.</p><p>“A fish like this,” he says, and points towards the ocean.</p><p>It dawns on Louis. “Yes, there’s a fish like that. A starfish.”</p><p>“That fish, no eat,” Harry says, looking at Louis. “This can eat?”</p><p>“Yes, this you can eat. It’s safe.” Louis has to pinch is own calf so that he doesn’t start laughing. Harry’s looking at the slice of starfruit very intently, like it’s personally scheming to poison him. But he takes a bite. He scrunches his nose, and Louis imagines how the sour taste must spread on his tongue. But still, he takes another bite, then proceeds to finish the whole slice. Louis slices up the rest of the fruit, and they munch on it in silence.</p><p>Lastly, the only fruit left are the rambutans. Harry pokes at the spikey red fruits and giggles when they roll around on the blanket. Louis grabs one and slices into the hairy but thin skin of the fruit, peeling it off and revealing the white fruit inside. He thinks of giving Harry the whole fruit, smaller than a chicken’s egg, but there’s a seed inside, and he doesn’t trust Harry to not chew right into it. So he peels half of the fruit and feeds it to Harry.</p><p>Harry’s eyes widen comically. His mouth is open, asking for another piece like a baby bird, before Louis’s had time even to remove the seed from the remaining half. “This your favourite, huh?” Louis chuckles, feeding him the other, now also seedless half. </p><p>“Harry like,” Harry says after swallowing. Louis peels two more rambutans in succession. He slices the other one and feeds it to Harry. Then he pops the other one whole into his own mouth. He munches the soft flesh of the fruit, manoeuvring it around his mouth from cheek to cheek with his tongue until there’s nothing but the seed left. He picks it out with his fingers.</p><p>Harry’s staring at him in what looks like astonishment. He takes one of the unpeeled rambutans and places it onto Louis’s palm. “Harry, too,” he says, puffing out his cheeks.</p><p>“Alright, alright, but don’t bite into this,” Louis says, laughing and showing Harry the seed he’s been holding in his other hand. Harry takes it from him and rolls it between his forefinger and thumb. Louis peels the rambutan for him. “Chew carefully,” he says, placing the fruit between Harry’s waiting lips.</p><p>He bites into the fruit, and it disappears into his mouth. He chews, cheeks full. Louis expects him to choke on the seed at any second. He wonders when was the last time he had to perform the Heimlich. But Harry doesn’t choke, just keeps on chewing and obviously savouring the taste of the fruit. There’s a dribble of juice from the corner of his mouth that travels to his chin and drips down his neck.</p><p>Louis is so suddenly and rapidly turned on that he’s head feel light with it. Not like he hasn’t been teetering on the edge of popping a semi throughout their whole fruit-eating session, but now he can hear nothing but the roaring of his own blood in his ears.</p><p>Harry swallows and picks out the seed from his mouth, just like Louis had a moment ago. He smiles at Louis victoriously. Then his expression falters a little when he looks up to Louis’s face. Louis quickly schools his expression to the neutral, encouraging smile he’s been trying to keep up all evening.</p><p>The fire has died down during their fruity taste test, just like Louis had planned, only the hot coals burning in bright pinks. Louis latches on to the opportunity to busy himself with preparing the fish. He scrambles up, extracts the snapper from Harry’s spear and walks out to the water’s edge again and uses his jackknife to scale the fish haphazardly. He opens up the fish’s belly and does his best to clean out the intestines, throwing them out into the ocean, sure that they find thankful recipients in an instant.</p><p>Louis walks back up to the campfire, meeting Harry’s eyes that he knows have been trained on him throughout the whole process. He smiles at him, and Harry smiles back, devastatingly bright.</p><p>“Dinner time,” Louis says, brandishing the fish at Harry. Without a grill griddle, he’s going to have to make do with the leftover sticks, hovering the fish above the burning hot coals. It doesn’t take long till the fish is cooked, it’s bright red skin turning toasted brown. He wishes he had salt or rosemary or even just a bit of oil to season the fish, but he had no idea they would be having anything else but fruit on their picnic. They’re just going to have to eat it as nature intended.</p><p>He also wishes he had a plate or something to put the cooked fish on. He actually feels kind of bad when he lays the fish straight onto the blanket. He’s going to have to take it to Aunt Sefina’s and tip her extra before returning it to Liam.</p><p>Louis cuts the fish fully open with his knife. Steaming white meat is revealed. He lets it cool for about five seconds until his patience gives out and he starts to pick at it with his bare fingers. He offers the first bit of meat to Harry. Steam rises between their faces.</p><p>“Harry no cook,” Harry says, stopping Louis’s hand with his fingers that curl around Louis’s wrist. “For Louis.”</p><p>“Oh,” Louis says. He puts the piece of meat to his own mouth instead. Harry’s eyes zero in on Louis’s lips as he chews. The fish tastes surprisingly nice, even without a drop of seasoning, the meat still softly flavourful. Louis can taste the freshness, the fish raised from the ocean a mere moments ago. He swallows. Harry stares at his throat.</p><p>“It’s very good,” Louis says. Louis doesn’t get flustered from attention, like, ever. Right now, Louis feels very flustered. He busies himself with picking out more of the meat from the fish.</p><p>“There’s still some mango left,” Louis notices, accidentally speaking with his mouth full. The other half of the mango lays next to Harry’s arm, untouched. So does the discarded papaya, but Louis sure they’ve agreed on discarding papayas forever. Apprehensively he trusts Harry with his jackknife so he can peel himself slices of the mango while Louis eats his fish.</p><p>They eat in silence, looking at each other. Since they’re both busy eating, it becomes somehow easier to observe the other, their gazes breaking off only when they have to focus on carving out more pieces of their respective meals.</p><p>Louis doesn’t mean to, but he ends up eating the whole fish. He feels his belly strain against the elastic band of his shorts. He picks up the leftover skin and bones of the fish and goes and throws them in the ocean. Then he picks up the papaya and leftover fruit skins and throws them into a nearby bush, donating them to the ants. He plops back down next to Harry on the blanket, feeling heavy and sluggish.</p><p>“Are you still comfortable?” he asks, touching the edge of the towel up on Harry’s waist. It’s still relatively wet. Harry nods wordlessly. Louis’s about to withdraw his hand, but Harry grabs it, holding it between his palms. He holds it up by the wrist. He traces the edges of Louis’s hand with his forefinger, with similar delicacy as he’d done with the fruit or Louis’s anklet. Then he traces each of the knuckles, one by one. Neither of them says a word.</p><p>At some point they both settle down on to their sides, facing each other on the blanket. The sun is starting to really set now, painting the sky in pinks and yellows, then in oranges and purples. It’ll be less than half an hour until they will succumb into pitch-black darkness.</p><p>Louis can’t bring himself to care. Harry is drawing his index finger up Louis’s arm, tracing the edges of the sleeve of his t-shirt, then the edges of the neckline, his eyes following his finger. Louis just lets him explore. Harry’s finger travels up Louis’s neck and around his Adam’s apple. There’s the most minute gasp when Harry reaches the stubble below Louis’s his chin.</p><p>Harry drags his finger first with the grain, then against, along Louis’s jawline. He presses into the small patch of hairs right below Louis’s lower lip and then traces along the hairless patch between it and the stubble dusting Louis’s chin. Louis watches Harry’s lips part very slightly, and something flashes in his eyes when he feels the contrast between the hairs and the bare skin.</p><p>Louis wants to kiss him so badly it physically pains him. When Harry’s fingers drag over his lower lip, it takes all Louis as in him to not pucker his lips against the warm skin. Louis’s face must twitch, and Harry lifts his hand to smooth between Louis’s eyebrows and then over each brow, smoothing the hairs with his thumb. He traces Louis’s hairline and the edges of his fringe, and all the while, his eyes follow the journey of his finger.</p><p>Harry keeps going, exploring the details of Louis’s face with gentle touches. And Louis lets him. It’s comforting, grounding in a strange way. Louis’s eyelids flutter without his control, and he could fall asleep if he weren’t so busy tracing every little flicker on Harry’s face.</p><p>While they lay there, darkness descends around them, tones of orange changing to dark blues. Quick like a blink, it’s suddenly so dark they’re engulfed in black. Even the moon is hiding behind a cloud. The lighthouse on the cliff up ahead is no help either, standing abandoned and lightless even in the dead of night.</p><p>“Harry, you should go back into the water,” Louis says, suddenly worried. How will Harry find wherever he needs to go in the darkness of the ocean? It’s not like Louis can lend him his torch to use down there.</p><p>“Louis go back,” Harry says. He sounds sad. Louis feels devastated. He can only just about see his face from where they’re lying so close. Louis’s never been so reluctant to go back anywhere, ever.</p><p>“Should I carry you?” he asks. This time Harry lets him and Louis removes the towels off his tail before picking him up on his arms, cradling his back with the other and tail with the other. He’s surprisingly heavy for a such a slender figure, most of the weight probably made up by his scales. Louis’s a little worried about how sluggish Harry feels in his arms. He berates himself for keeping him on the blanket for so long. He stops so Harry can grab the spear still standing up in the sand to take it with him. Then he wades into the water blindly until he’s waist-deep and Harry’s tail is fully submerged. He continues to hold him under the surface. The black water lulls around them.</p><p>“I will see you again, right?” he asks Harry, not caring if he sounds desperate or clingy. Louis has never <em> not </em>cared before. But even if he never does, see him again that is, he already knows the memory of their night will fulfil him for a lifetime.</p><p>“Louis takes boat to rocks. Harry comes,” Harry says simply. He gives Louis’s cheek one last brush of gentle fingertips, and then he’s gone, slipped from between Louis’s arms and gotten swallowed by the darkness. </p><p>Louis feels like letting the ocean wash him away, too.</p><p>Louis trudged back up to the beach. Mindlessly, he gathers the towels and blanket and packs them into his basket. He kicks sand over the already cooled down, now all black coals for good measure. He can barely make out the outline of the lighthouse up ahead when he starts his way up the stone stairway. He flicks on his torchlight that does only so much to help him trek through the darkness, just illuminating enough so that Louis can see where his next step is. Everything else has succumbed to black.</p><p>Throughout the whole way up, Louis has the sensation of someone’s eyes being fixed on him, though in the pitch-black darkness of the night, he can’t even make out where the sand ends and water begins.</p><p>
  
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<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Boy am I glad to finally get to post this!! I originally didn’t intend to take such a long break, but then Real Life Issues (TM) happened. I’m so glad to be writing again.</p><p>Trigger warning of sorts: this chapter contains description of intense feelings of (momentary) panic and desperation, mentions of sharks and a tiny bit of blood. Nothing gory though, I promise, but just a heads up. If you wish the skip the part that contains these elements, look for a mark like this (**) towards the end of the chapter.</p><p>As a compensation, I offer baby turtles!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Turns out that Harry meant exactly what he had said. <em>Louis takes boat to rocks. Harry comes.</em> From then on, they meet at the coral beds every time Louis goes for his round of check-ups. More often than not, Louis goes there on the days in-between too. Sometimes they just swim, side by side, Louis with his snorkel on and Harry obviously having to restrain his normal speed to stay alongside him. Sometimes they sit on the rocks, or Louis does, and Harry rests against one with his tail submerged in water. </p><p>More often than not, Louis brings Harry more foods to try. He keeps in mind Harry’s rule of nothing cooked. Mostly Louis brings him more fruit, bananas, pineapples and breadfruit, even expensive as hell imported strawberries (Louis spends a good ten minutes washing them under fresh water, terrified of getting Harry sick from pesticides). Harry cherishes them all, eating them from between Louis’s fingers just like he had the first time. Once, Louis brings orange juice freshly squeezed that morning. Harry drinks it like golden nectar, both hands clutching at Louis’s wrist when he tips the glass bottle to Harry’s lips.</p><p>Harry also keeps bringing Louis fish, freshly speared from a nearby reef, Louis assumes. Louis has to buy a new, larger cooling container to keep them fresh all the way home. Harry brings him more snappers, hog fishes and groupers, once a massive mahi-mahi, Louis’s absolute favourite. The only downside is that Louis has nowhere to hide his newly received bounty, and Liam is way too perceptive for his own good.</p><p>“Since when do you spearfish? And do it well enough to catch a mahi-mahi that size? You don’t even have a speargun,” he presses when Louis comes home that day.</p><p>Bullshit. Louis would definitely, easily become supremely skilled at spearfishing if he so decided. He mutters something about borrowing a spear from Wayan and excuses himself quickly.</p><p>With every passing day, every long afternoon spent with Harry, Louis catalogs new things about him in his mind. Harry’s eager, so eager, pointing out details about the corals and fish around them, babbling in broken English. Some of the things Louis knows already, some of them he’s had no idea about, and he bets neither would his scientist colleagues. He shudders to think the way they would cream their pants to study a creature like Harry.</p><p>To Louis, of course, Harry has stopped being, or perhaps never was to begin with, just ‘a creature.’ There’s wit and humour and soulfulness in Harry that would never suffice to be defined in such a way. Louis’s willing to bet a lot that Harry has a higher IQ than any of the people he knows, including the world class marine biologists he works with, definitely including himself.</p><p>Louis teaches Harry new words, anything he can think of. Harry learns them, is able to memorize them and use them almost instantaneously. He understands words Louis’s never taught him when Louis uses them in a sentence. Harry’s chatter grows more colourful and wordy every day. Louis teaches him the English names of every single fish and little crab they see, of every single equipment in his dinghy, name of every one his body parts. Well, almost every body part. Unsurprisingly, Harry is particularly fascinated by the names of each toe, reciting them back to Louis while touching each one of them softly, on both of Louis’s feet.</p><p>And the touching continues. Sometimes Harry stops to drag his fingertips along Louis’s jawline, just like he had at their picnic, sometimes staring yet again in wide-eyed wonder, sometimes giggling and pursing his lips. Louis makes it his mission to maintain his stubble at that exact length.</p><p>Louis swims, like always, without his shirt on at the coral beds, which results in even more touching. Harry traces the dips of his collarbones and the shapes of Louis’s chest tattoo, <em>it is what it is</em>, changing Louis’s own mind about the tattoo being a reckless and stupid idea of fake poeticism. Suddenly he’s more appreciative than ever of the long cursive of the letters, of the way they span across his chest.</p><p>Like with the hairs of Louis’s chin, Harry’s equally fascinated with the patch of hair between Louis’s pectorals. Louis will never get it waxed, ever again. Harry pushes his fingertip through the hairs and then, leaning closer, pink lips pursing, blows air into them, making them ruffle. Louis knows he’s coke-can red in the face. He blames sunburn.</p><p>One day they somehow end up with Louis kneeling in the water, Harry’s tail resting curled on the sandy floor, his fingers tracing around and then over Louis’s nipples, watching them harden into nubs at the touch. Like always, Louis just lets him explore uninterrupted, but he’s desperately hard inside his swimming shorts where he’s sitting on his shins in the waist-high depth. He hopes Harry doesn’t notice or doesn’t know what it means.</p><p>Louis never quite dares to touch Harry back, not the same way anyway, not with the same, open curiosity. He holds his hand sometimes when they swim side by side, Harry pulling him along to look at a fish or a particularly large and spikey sea urchin. On occasion he brushes Harry’s curls behind his ears when they’re both resting at the rocks, basking in the sunlight. He lets Harry take his palm and press it against his cheek, holding it there and cupping the warm, soft skin.</p><p>But anything more than that, he never dares. He doesn’t even know if Harry is a sexual being and sometimes he feels so guilty for his desires that he thinks the merciless heat of the sun is the hellfires already licking at his skin. At night he goes home and touches himself, furiously, punishingly, repeatedly, until there’s nothing but buzzing in his ears and blurry visions of Harry’s pearly skin and dark curls behind his eyelids.</p><p>Sometimes he catches Harry staring at his lips but he doesn’t know if it’s the same curiosity Harry has towards Louis’s toes or ankles or his body hair - all things that Harry himself doesn’t have -  or if it’s something else. He doesn’t know what would even be the difference between the two. </p><p>And of course, Louis has no way of finding out more on his own, Harry being his only source of information about him or anyone of his likeness. Googling ‘mermaid sexuality’ only gives him results with weird porn and even weirder sex toys, which just gives him the confirmation that he’s reacting the way any other douchebag would to being faced with a real-life merman - with thirst.</p><p>So, Louis does his very best to cater to the open, innocent curiosity Harry has and damps his own, less pure desires for exploration to the darkest back corner of his mind. He does anything he can think of to provoke Harry’s childlike wonder and delight. He graduates from anklets to bracelets and necklaces just so Harry can toy with the little charms in them when they sit at the rocks together. He even finds a necklace with a little mermaid ornament, complete with tiny boobs and long hair and all. He gets his left earlobe pierced at a local shop where sanitary is more than questionable, just so he can wear the turtle earring he’d found from the market. It’s decorated with a green stone, colour not too dissimilar to Harry’s eyes. He buys new swimming shorts, batik dyed in all colours of the rainbow. He even contemplates on buying a crocheted, tasseled bikini top and wearing it just to get a reaction out of Harry.</p><p>The only thing that stops him, in the end, is the fact that Liam has tagged along with him to the market. Louis doesn’t need any more fuel added to the fire of Liam pestering him.</p><p>“What’s with all the long trips with the boat? The corals can’t need that much attention? They don’t even do anything,” he will ask, trying to surprise an answer out of him when Louis’s snoozing on the sunbeds on their balcony or elbow-deep in fish guts in the kitchen. </p><p>Louis reminds him that corals do much more for the world than Liam and his stupid buzzcut. “Corals are the lungs of the planet,” he tells him. He’s reciting a leaflet from the research lab, but whatever. It’s true.</p><p>Liam ignores him. “Have you started dating one of the scientists?” he will wonder, as if to himself, or make off-hand comments like, “That Sarah is kinda hot, isn’t she?”</p><p>Sarah, the newest addition to the research centre, a doctoral student from California, <em>is</em> kinda hot. Objectively speaking, that is. Louis still has eyes. What Louis doesn’t have is finding it in himself to think about anyone like that anymore. Anyone but Harry. </p><p>Louis is well and truly fucked. And not at all in the way he would like to be fucked. He’s fucked in the way that he’s ready to fling himself into misery and self-loathing, and the worst dry spell of his life, just to get to keep holding Harry’s hand.</p><p>Like he said. He’s fucked.</p><p>It’s one of their long afternoons by the coral beds again. Louis has just stored a mahi-mahi Harry has brought him in his cooler - smaller this time, but still big enough for Louis to eat nothing but mahi-mahi for the next two days. Harry swims around him while Louis goes through his usual round of note-taking and inspecting the corals. When Louis’s done, he dumps his bucket and notes back into the dinghy and they both swim out to the rocks. Louis sits down on one and Harry rests against it on his elbows, keeping his tail in the water. </p><p>Louis hands Harry a banana he has brought as per Harry’s request and takes a swig of his water bottle. Louis had taught him how to peel and eat a banana a few days prior. He watches Harry munch at the soft fruit, pink lips wrapping around the pale yellow fruit with every small bite.</p><p>Of course it would turn out that bananas are one of Harry’s favourite fruits. Louis is already going to burn in hell and the universe likes to laugh at him by adding to his misery.</p><p>Louis tilts his head back to feel the sun on his face. It’s one of those perfect Syawlian days, nothing but cloudless sky and glimmer of the ocean around them. It would be so easy to just slump against the rock and fall asleep, Harry’s warm side pressing against his thigh. He listens to Harry munching on his banana. Anybody else would set Louis's teeth on edge with that sound. From Harry it’s just kind of cute. There’s a soft slap when Harry sets down the empty banana peel onto one of the rocks. It will soon turn black from the sunlight. </p><p>There’s a slosh. Harry has dipped his upper body back into the water and pushed right back out again. When Louis opens his eyes, he sees Harry’s upper body glimmering with drops of water. Louis suddenly feels the urge to do the same and dips in and out of the water, too. It feels good, rejuvenating.</p><p>“Harry and Louis,” Harry says, once they’ve both settled back against the rock. He will sometimes do that, say their names together out of nowhere, like he’s tasting the words on his tongue. He looks at Louis and his eyes glitter like the water around them. Sometimes Louis thinks that if he stared long enough, he would just tip in and fall into the green pools of his eyes.</p><p>Louis’s also a sappy lovesick idiot.</p><p>“Louis and Harry,” Louis repeats back, because it always makes Harry smile that smile, putting the sun in the sky in shame. </p><p>“How is Harry feeling today?” he asks. This is something Louis has started doing, inquiring about Harry’s mood. He doesn’t know why exactly he’s doing it - Harry seems to always be in a good mood without fail.</p><p>Like expected, Harry answers, “Harry is happy.” Louis has only lately started teaching him the correct use of the verb ‘be’ and it’s conjugations. They have yet to work up to teaching Harry not to speak about himself in the third person. It’s partly because Louis finds it too endearing to correct him. “But Harry is also sad.”</p><p>This is a first. “Why are you sad?” Louis asks, immediately concerned.</p><p>“Harry wishes Harry had toes.”</p><p>Well. A laugh bubbles out of Louis. He knows how Harry feels about toes. “But you have a pretty tail,” Louis says. “Besides, I have enough toes for the both of us. I’ve got ten!” he says, wiggling his toes in the air for Harry to see. Louis knows Harry loves it when he does that.</p><p>Harry giggles, like always. It’s become Louis’s favourite sound. But then his face turns serious again. </p><p>“If Harry had toes he could be with Louis always. Even when Louis goes home.”</p><p>Ouch. Ouch ouch <em>ouch</em>.</p><p>It’s not like the thought hasn’t crossed Louis’s mind. He’s had vivid dreams of Harry, a human Harry, and him, walking down the seaside boulevard, hand in hand. One time he dreamt about being in London and meeting Harry at a pub and blowing him in the bathroom stall. Because when he thinks about a Harry with legs, long and gorgeous, his mind doesn’t just stop there. It also makes him think about all the other parts that would come with them.</p><p>It also crosses his mind everytime he walks down the market and sees couples there, holding each other, arms around each other’s waist. And he imagines himself and Harry, in their place, and of all the things they could do and experience together.</p><p>But he’s not about to tell any of this to Harry. “But then you wouldn’t be able to swim, all deep down in the ocean. You wouldn’t be able to go home.” Louis still doesn’t know exactly what that means for Harry or where he goes when Louis rides is dinghy back to the docks. He doesn’t know if Harry has a family of merpeople like him, waiting somewhere in the depths.</p><p>“Yes,” is all Harry says. He rests his head against Louis’s shoulder. His fingertip draws circles on Louis’s bent knee. Louis wonders how, despite all of the hours they’ve spent sitting in the sun together, Harry’s pearly skin never catches a slightest tint of a tan. Louis himself just keeps getting more toasted by the day, his paleness from cloudy London a distant memory.</p><p>“Harry wants to be with Louis,” Harry says after a moment of silence.</p><p>God. Louis wonders where all of these confessions are coming from all of a sudden. His gut does that painful twisty thing again.</p><p>“You are,” he says. “Right here.” He takes Harry’s hand from his knee and entwines their fingers together. “I’m right here.” He rests their clasped hands on his stomach.</p><p>Harry looks at their linked hands and then up to Louis’s face. His gaze flickers all over Louis’s features for a long while. Then his eyes stop at Louis’s lips.</p><p>Whatever train of thought Louis was having about comforting Harry speeds up, then drives right off a cliff, leaving behind just a cloud of mental dust.</p><p>“Louis beautiful,” Harry says, keeping his eyes fixed on Louis’s mouth. Louis doesn’t know how Harry knows that word, he’s pretty sure he hasn’t taught Harry it - only thought about it every single day when looking at him. He would correct him about forgetting the verb, but his brain is still in a fog and preoccupied with the compliment. He swallows. There’s no mistaking the way Harry’s eyes follow his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Louis most beautiful.”</p><p>Louis doesn’t know who he’s being compared to. Harry’s fingers slip out of the hold of Louis’s hand. He presses his palm against Louis’s stomach, fingers spread out wide. His pinky finger touches the elastic band of Louis’s swimming shorts.</p><p>“Harry want to be good to Louis,” Harry says. His palm drags over Louis’s hip and down Louis’s thigh closest to him and back up again. God, they’re in dangerous territory. Or Louis is. He doesn’t know what Harry means but it can’t be what he’s hearing. Louis’s clenching his jaws shut so tight it hurts so that he doesn’t get hard inside his shorts.</p><p>Harry’s touched him a lot but never like this, not with such intent, not with pressure and heat. The way his hand presses to Louis’s stomach is not his usual, curious and innocent exploring. He’s still staring at Louis’s lips. Louis feels confused and itchy-hot inside his skin.</p><p>“Harry,” Louis whispers. </p><p>The moment the name has formed on his tongue, Harry hoists himself higher onto the rock and kisses him. His petal-soft lips press into Louis’s and Louis forgets about everything else. There’s nothing left but the press of Harry’s palm on his stomach and his other hand slipping into Louis’s neck. Nothing, but the way he shivers when Louis slides his tongue against Harry’s and then into his mouth.</p><p>Louis’s hands lift up from where he’s been gripping onto the rock below him and wrap around Harry on their own accord. His skin is warm and his waist is narrow but there’s softness, almost plumpness around his hips right before his skin mends into scales. The moment Louis’s fingers dig into Harry’s skin, Harry groans and scrambles still further onto the rock, his chest slamming against Louis’s.</p><p>“Harry,” Louis moans again, with more urgency, right into his mouth.</p><p>Time takes a peculiar nature from then on. Louis can measure it only in the feel of Harry’s skin, the wandering of his palms all over Louis’s body, the surprisingly minty taste of his mouth. Louis is still sort of struggling to keep up with the fact that any of this is happening, that him and Harry are kissing.</p><p>When they finally break apart, they’re both panting for air.</p><p>“Harry,” Louis whispers, swiping a loose curl back behind his ear. His brain has turned into a one-track record. Harry’s so beautiful. “Harry.”</p><p>“Louis show Harry how to be good?” Harry asks. Louis watches his eyelids flutter.</p><p>Harry is good. So, <em>so</em> good. Louis’s positive there’s no other setting available in him but unadulterated, absolute good. They’re so close Harry’s warm breath ghosts over Louis’s lips. There’s no helping it, he’s getting hard inside his swimming trunks. Louis feels humiliation and arousal burn in his stomach when Harry’s eyes travel over his body and stop at the obvious bulge straining the wet fabric. </p><p>It’s simple, a trainwreck of events. Louis panics. He presses the heel of his palm against his groin in haste to conceal himself. Which is exactly what feeds Harry’s curiosity. His eyes almost sparkle with it. Louis stutters when, somehow, Harry’s long, curious, gentle fingers pry their way under Louis’s.</p><p>“Harry,” Louis gasps once more, dumbly, and grips the hard stone surface under his bum helplessly. Harry’s fingers trace the curve of his cock and he lets out a smallest, softest gasp when it twitches in Louis’s shorts. </p><p>“Louis?” Harry asks. His expression is a strange mixture of innocent determination and heat.</p><p>It may be what eventually breaks Louis. And reminds him of Harry’s request. His noble ideas of restraint and responsibility get thrown into a mental trash pit with an almost audible clunk echoing inside his skull. He scrambles to pull his swimming shorts off. They slap wetly against the rock where he dumps them. </p><p>There they sit, Harry half in the water, half on the rock, and Louis bare-bottomed and pink, breathing heavily. They both stare at Louis’s cock where it’s standing to attention from between his legs, almost bright red from arousal. Louis knows his face is a matching shade of crimson.</p><p>Harry doesn’t say anything, just looks back up at Louis’s face with eyes wide and full of wonder. When Louis isn’t able to do anything but give an aborted nod-like movement, Harry reaches out his fingers and touches Louis. The touch is much too gentle, just a fingertip at the head of Louis’s aching cock, cool against his burning skin. Louis’s cock twitches again involuntarily and Louis is helpless, glued to the spot watching Harry bite his lip, two front teeth sinking into the plump pink flesh.</p><p>Louis’s usually much more assertive than this in bed and especially with the men he’s been with. But Harry is definitely not just a man and they’re <em> definitely </em> not in bed, sitting at the edge of the Pacific Ocean. Louis feels the flush on his face burn all the way down to his chest.</p><p>Harry’s hands are big, so absurdly big, Louis wonders if it’s a typical build for a merperson or just a Harry thing. They’re also soft, so soft. Louis marvels how his fingers are not pruney. His own fingertips start to resemble raisins after just a short swim. Harry literally lives in the water, yet his skin remains soft and supple, almost silky to touch.</p><p>Harry’s fingertips trail down the underside of Louis’s cock, then explore the hairs dusting his groin, following the slim, barely-there trail up to Louis’s navel and back down again. He goes about exploring Louis with the same attention to detail he always has. He keeps sort of petting Louis, which is nice in itself, any resemblance of friction at his dick is at this point, but this is where Louis realizes Harry may need some instructions with the, well, <em>unknown equipment</em>.</p><p>He lifts his hand and curls his fingers over Harry’s so that they wrap around his length. He starts pumping them and—God, it already feels so good. Precum seeps from his slit and he spreads it around, making their fingers slide smoother over him. After just a few pumps Harry ripples his fingers, forcing Louis to let go. He keeps stroking Louis, just like Louis showed him if not with more intensity and, okay. He’s a quick study. Louis groans and thumps his head back against the rock behind them.</p><p>Another person hasn’t touched Louis in ages. He’s losing his mind over a handjob.</p><p>“So good,” Louis moans thoughtlessly, mind blank like the cloudless sky above them, and Harry practically glows in response.</p><p>“Louis,” he mumbles, pressing a wide smile that’s spreading on his face like he can’t fight it, into the skin of Louis’s neck. In the midst of it all, Louis had somehow forgotten the specific wording of Harry’s request.</p><p>“Feels so good, Harry,” he elaborates, for Harry’s benefit but just to speak the truth too, and to feel Harry’s grin widen against his skin.</p><p>It all gets the better of him far sooner than Louis would like. He grabs Harry’s face and kisses him, smashing their mouths together. Harry’s hand falters only for a second. Louis moans into his mouth, fist tight in Harry’s curls. It’s impossible to stay still. He squirms and his bare bum rubs against the smooth, warm stone below him.</p><p>“Harry, I’m close– ‘m close,” he gasps, burying in turn his own face into Harry’s neck, exhaling the salty scent of his skin while helplessly bucking up into Harry’s fist.</p><p>“Louis,” Harry whispers again, intensely, hot breath against Louis’s temple, and Louis never has much of a choice. He comes, spurt after spurt into Harry’s fist, keening desperately. Harry shivers and Louis hopes he doesn’t find it disgusting, if he has any idea what the translucent white stickiness now webbing his fingers even is.</p><p>When Louis releases his hold on him, Harry lifts his hand up towards the sun, fingers spread wide. He tilts his hand left and right, examining it. There’s a pause and when Harry’s mouth opens slightly, pink tongue darting out and his hand starts to travel towards his mouth, Louis yelps and knocks his hand into the water.</p><p>“Oops,” he says smartly, smiling at Harry and maintaining the hold around his wrist. He’s still heaving heavily, his brain feeling fried and eyelids heavy. Harry pouts a little at his hand, already washed clean. He seems to forget about it when he looks up to Louis’s face, lips curving upwards again.</p><p>“Louis good?” he asks. Louis huffs out a laugh. <em> Good</em> is an understatement of a lifetime.</p><p>“I am very, very good,” he tells him, caressing Harry’s cheek softly. He doesn’t have to imagine the glitter and sparkles, they’re all there, little bright spots dancing around both of them from the sunlight reflected from Harry’s scales. “You’re so beautiful, Harry.”</p><p>Harry presses his face into Louis’s hand, cupping it with his own. He looks so pleased, and almost bashful, and Louis doesn’t give himself time to consider the tugging sensation around his heart.</p><p>“Harry, how do I—” he starts to ask, then starts to feel silly. What do you want me to do? How do I jerk you off? Harry doesn’t have any visible <em> parts </em> to do that with. Are they hidden somewhere underneath his scales? Does he even have any? These are questions Louis has spent hours pondering about, coming up with the wildest theories on his own, ranging from silly to beyond laughable. Louis’s ready for any of them to be true.</p><p>“Just touch,” Harry breathes, lips brushing at Louis’s collarbone. “Louis just touch.” He presses Louis’s hand onto his waist and leans into Louis’s hand cupping his cheek, closing his eyes with a flutter. It feels like he’s trying to melt into Louis, mend his body into a shape that would attach seamlessly against Louis’s side. </p><p>Louis brushes his hand over the swell of his not-really-there, scale-covered bum. It doesn’t give him the reaction he was hoping for. The reaction he would have if Harry grabbed his arse.</p><p>But Louis is learning quickly that he can’t make any assumptions based on himself about Harry. He spreads his palms and smoothes them over Harry’s broad back, pushing a hand to cradle the nape of his neck and the other to stroke the length of Harry’s long arm. He’s encouraged by the happy humming sound Harry makes and the shiver that runs through his body. Louis feels the soft, delicate skin in the creases of his elbows, then up his torso, tracing the shape of his pectorals. He swipes again over his broad back, between the shoulder blades and all the way down his spine, digging his fingers into the softness around Harry’s hips. He kisses the side of Harry’s jaw, then behind his ear and down his neck, softly, sweetly, wanting to savour him finally in his arms.</p><p>The more Louis keeps petting Harry, hands roaming all over his bare skin, the harder Harry starts to shiver. He’s practically trembling, like he’s in the bouts of hypothermia even though they’re enveloped in the ever-present heat of the tropics. “Harry, are you okay?” Louis starts to ask, apprehensive if he should continue or not. </p><p>Harry lets out a long gargle and whispers, “good,” barely audibly. He’s eyes have rolled so far back in his head Louis can only see slits of white between his almost closed eyelids. His mouth is slightly open, saliva glistening at the corners of his pink mouth. A vein in his neck pulses visibly. It’s the most intense picture of euphoria Louis has ever seen. It’s like Harry’s lost somewhere, floating in another realm far beyond Louis’s reach.</p><p>It’s a shock, the effect the simple skin-to-skin contact has on Harry. Louis luxuriates in touching him, in being able to touch him, hold him. Harry’s skin is almost silky, and Louis thinks his hands must feel rough against, his fingers calloused from work. But none of that seems to bother Harry, if his gasping breaths and little ‘<em> uh, uh, uh </em>’s are anything to go by. When Louis thumbs brush over Harry’s nipples, pink and perky, Harry’s tail trashes so violently it sends a spray of water over both of them.</p><p>“Lou—ah, ah, Louis!” he shouts, his whole body going tense. It looks familiar, like he’s on the verge of something, a release. It both excites and confuses Louis, not understanding what kind of climax could possibly be reached like this, yet wanting nothing more but to see it happen. Louis bends down and sucks one, perfect little nipple into his mouth and Harry’s arms wrap tightly around him, crushing him against his chest. Louis lets out a surprised ‘<em>oomph</em>’ around Harry’s nipple, breath punched out of him momentarily, but he goes right back to sucking and flicking his tongue on the hardened nub. Harry tenses again, strong tremors going through his body, one after another after another, and then he breaks into little high-pitched whimpers, his arms crushing Louis like he’s trying to mend the two of them together by sheer force. It sounds like an orgasm if Louis’s ever heard one. And then, very suddenly, Louis’s released from his iron-grip hold and Harry slumps against him, heaving and panting, still whining like aftershocks are running through him.</p><p>“Harry,” Louis marvels. “What was—was that—<em>wow</em>.” Harry whimpers, nuzzling at Louis’s neck, and Louis holds him, rocks him gently like they’re lulled by the ocean itself. Harry remains soft and pliant in his arms for a long time, responding in little nods and smiles, eyes sparkling at Louis when Louis asks if he’s okay, if he’s still okay, if he needs anything.</p><p>Time loses meaning afterwards when they sit together, wrapped around each other. Louis keeps petting Harry’s hair and murmuring softly, soothing Harry but soothing himself too. He says every endearment he can think of, tells Harry about all of the little, wonderful things he’s thought about him but never been brave enough to say.</p><p>It’s almost sundown before they manage to untangle. Louis rides back home in a haze, the setting sun colouring the sky in pinks and reds, painting a picture of the state of his heart and mind perfectly.</p><p>*</p><p>“I think she’s gotten fatter,” Louis declares on a Sunday morning. Their household cat, Fat Kelly, has just flopped next to him onto the sunbed. Him and Liam have been snoozing away on the balcony in the morning sun. Or, Liam’s been rattling on about something, Louis’s not exactly sure what. He’s been too busy daydreaming about Harry, which he has masked as snoozing. Now he looks at Kelly’s big stomach that droops between her stubby legs.</p><p>“Of course she’s gotten fatter, you keep feeding her all those fish guts from your mystery fishes that you mysteriously fish during your mysterious fishing dates with your mysterious date,” Liam says. </p><p>The kid does talk some shit. </p><p>“Nothing mysterious about the fish,” Louis sniffs. Frankly, he’s a bit offended Liam thinks Louis couldn’t be a skilled fisherman.</p><p>“What’s gotten into you?” Liam asks him, changing tactics. “Has some<em>one</em> gotten into you?”</p><p>“Yuck, Liam, don’t be crude.” Louis realizes his mistake as soon as it’s happened. Louis’s the last person to call someone out for being crude. Liam’s eyes widen like planets.</p><p>“Someone <em> has </em> gotten into you!” His delight is nauseating.</p><p>The rest of the morning goes by with Liam trying to ambush him with new, ever more elaborate questions and Louis dodging them. When the midday sun gets too merciless to bear, Louis gets up and heads to his room. He really feels like going for a swim and it just so happens that he has a swimming partner waiting. Warmth pools at the bottom of his stomach just at the thought. He packs his things and slips out of the villa. </p><p>Scooter to the docks. Dinghy to the coral beds. The route goes by on autopilot and when Louis finally slips out of his boat and into the water in his tie dye blue swimming shorts, he’s already dreamed of that exact moment at least ten times on his way there. Even with a few clouds in the sky today, the heat is still all-encompassing. The water feels like pure bliss. As soon as his body hits the water, Harry’s next to him, appearing seemingly out of nowhere.</p><p>“Hi.” Louis grins, feeling suddenly hyper aware of his extremities. He’s conscious of the little patches of his skin that touch Harry’s, their elbows knocking and knuckles brushing.</p><p>“Louis knows small island?” Harry asks when they’re finally sat at their usual spot on the rocks after a long, satisfying swim. He’s pointing towards the horizon in the east. Louis knows vaguely that some kilometres from the easternmost tip of the island are a few smaller islands, popping in and out of the ocean and creating a long sandbank. But they’re all deserted and so tiny they’ll probably be swallowed up by the rising sea levels in the coming years. “Harry want to take Louis to the island.”</p><p>“What do you mean, Harry?” Louis asks, baffled. It’s not like they can exactly hop on a boat together and sail into the sunset.</p><p>“Louis take boat,” Harry says and points towards Louis’s dinghy before continuing, “on Saturday and meets Harry here. Harry shows the way.” Louis had just explained the difference between the weekend and weekdays to him just a couple of days ago, and why it meant Louis had more time to spend with Harry on the days called Saturday and Sunday. It seems that Harry, clever as ever, has put this new information to use immediately.</p><p>But it’s quite the way to go with just Louis’s poor little inflatable. He wonders vaguely if he could rent a motorboat for the day. Before Louis can ask more about Harry’s plans, he says, “On Sunday Harry bring Louis back.” </p><p>Sunday? Is Harry… asking him for an overnight date? Apparently Louis also needs to get a tent and some camping gear. Despite all the questions running through his head he answers, “That sounds great, Harry. I’d love that.”</p><p>Harry smiles at him that thousand-watt smile. It never gets old. It might be what eventually causes Louis’s untimely death.</p><p>The week goes by in the usual manner of lab work, extended hours at the coral beds and Liam’s growing suspicions. It takes quite the mental acrobatics to come up with a feasible excuse as to why Louis will be away for the weekend. In the end Louis tells Liam that Wayan is taking him along for an extended fishing trip, a lie that matches neatly with his previous lie about spearfishing. Louis doesn’t feel good about it, but the droplet of truth about visiting a nearby island amongst the lie gives him a crooked sense of justification.</p><p>On Friday, Louis borrows a tent and a cotton sleeping bag from Carol, his manager at the research lab, and somehow manages with minimum explanations as to where he is going to need them. He does rent a motorboat from Wayan. It’s a battered old thing but still more sturdy than his plastic dinghy. It’s blue and says <em> Runaway Vixen </em> at the rear in tall cursive. Louis thinks it’s rather apt for his and Harry’s escapade.</p><p>With his borrowed tent and sleeping bag, a basket full of fruit for Harry and three large canisters of fresh water packed into the boat, Louis heads out towards the sea, bright and early on a Saturday morning. Instead of much food for himself, he’s packed a grill griddle, a small pouch full of spices and a set of matches, already knowing Harry will provide him with all the fish he needs.</p><p>Harry’s waiting for him at the coral beds, as promised, and they set off, Harry leading the way towards east. Louis watches the long expanse of his back and tail glide in and out of the water. Harry has to duck deeper down a few times as they pass by an occasional sailboat or a catamaran heading towards the Northern side of the island. Louis wonders how Harry isn’t showing any signs of exhaustion, swimming smoothly in front of him as minutes tick by. His happy face turns to look at Louis every now and again as if to see he’s still there, like the roar of the motorboat doesn’t make it obvious.</p><p>Half an hour later they are passing by the string of small islands, tied together like beads with a sliver of sand exposed between them by the low tide. Some of the islands are so tiny they’re barely islands at all, but patches of land with a palm tree or two waving gently in the wind. As they reach the fifth one in the tidy row, Harry waves at Louis and gestures for him to anchor his boat. </p><p>“It’s a good time!” Harry exclaims once Louis has safely secured the boat and waded back into the water. Harry holds on to Louis’s shoulders heavily, imitating a standing position next to him and Louis’s toes dig deep into the soft sandy bottom in the waist high water. Louis doesn’t mind supporting his heavy weight, happy of their easy closeness and the excuse to worm an arm around Harry’s waist.</p><p>“Good time for what?” Louis asks, baffled.</p><p>“Baby turtle.”</p><p>Harry looks towards the shore and then Louis sees it. Tens, if not hundreds of tiny black sea turtles are crawling out of the beach in front of them and wiggling as fast as their fins can carry them, into the ocean. More and more eggs hatch, buried in the sand, releasing a turtle after another to fight their way into the ocean. It’s a magical show. Louis feels like he’s witnessing a birth. In a way he is. He thinks it’s a miracle there are no birds around and tries not ponder on the dangers that await such tiny creatures in the open sea.</p><p>“This is amazing, Harry. You—you knew?” Louis says, voice coming out hushed. He feels wetness fighting at the corners of his eyes that has nothing to do with the water surrounding them. “You knew and you wanted to bring me here for this?”</p><p>“Yes.” Harry nods, like it’s very simple, like he’s not cracking Louis’s ribs open and taking his heart, then keeping it to himself, easily, effortlessly. Louis looks at him and it feels almost as if they’re slow-dancing as they stand there, glued against each other and lulled by the gentle waves, swaying on the spot.</p><p>“Harry, I—I—” Louis feels it, ridiculously and completely. Impossibly. He can’t possibly say it. He digs his fingers into the slight plushness of Harry’s hips and kisses him instead. He feels like a dying man in the desert, reaching for a cup of nectar. Harry shivers against him and starts squirming, like it’s all getting a little too much too soon. “Sorry, sorry,” Louis stutters, realizing belatedly what a simple touch can do to Harry. How could he forget.</p><p>But Harry smiles at him, his cheeks dusted in pink. “Louis good. Harry wanted Louis to see.”</p><p>“It’s incredible. Thank you, Harry,” Louis says, swallowing thickly, and then they both look towards the beach again, watching the last brave little turtles crawl their way into the water.</p><p>After they’re sure no more turtles are going to struggle out of the sand, they release each other from their tight hold and start preparing for a campsite. Or Louis does, while Harry disappears into the water after fetching his spear, packed safely into Louis’s boat. In the meantime, Louis makes sure to put up his tent a safe way away from the turtles’ funny little track marks left in the drying sand, just in case there are still eggs buried somewhere that haven’t hatched. He sets his tent on a patch of grass where the sand ends. There isn’t much space to choose from, not with the island being small enough that when turning on the spot, Louis can see all of its edges peeking through the swaying palm trees.</p><p>Once he’s done with setting the tent up he just stands there, hands on hips and watches the orange canvas reflect sunlight. Apart from his boy-scouting days, Louis’s never done much camping.  And now he’s made camp on a deserted island by himself to court a man.</p><p>He really would do some soul-searching if he didn’t already know it to be totally fruitless. There’s a glimmer of greens and purples in the water in his periphery. Anyway, Harry’s definitely not just a man.</p><p>Louis dumps his bag and his t-shirt inside the tent and trudges back into the water. Harry’s been waiting in the shallows, watching him, a large snapper fish secured onto the spikes of his spear.</p><p>“Hi,” Louis says. The way Harry smiles at him always makes him feel a little dumb, his brain short-circuiting.</p><p>They have a cozy picnic near the water’s edge, not unlike their first one at the cove. Louis cooks Harry’s fish for himself and Harry munches on the fruit Louis had brought for him. By the evening the slightest of winds has died down completely and not one leaf of the palm trees rustles above them. The ocean is still like a mirror and the sudden lack of sounds creates an eerie but intimate atmosphere. Louis thinks the world could just as well have ended and him and Harry wouldn’t know a thing, closed inside their private bubble. The sun is traveling towards the horizon, its orange rays casting off from the stillness of the water.</p><p>Once they’ve finished eating they settle to lay down next to each other right where the water meets land, both half in the water, half on the sand. It’s something they haven’t been able to do since their first picnic, lay down next to each other. For some reason it feels almost monumental, to be able to be close in such a simple, ordinary manner. Louis could almost imagine they’re laying together on a bed if it weren’t for the fact that he’s waist down in water, wet swim shorts clinging to his body. He doesn’t quite care either way. He let’s the grains of sand dig into his elbows and looks at Harry’s tail, half exposed in a long curve in the shallow water.</p><p>Louis turns to his side, curving his arm under his head to create a makeshift pillow. Harry’s mirroring him. Louis uses his free hand to brush down Harry’s curls, to brush off sand clinging to his collarbone and then to just touch Harry’s face and neck, observing the slow rise and fall of his chest.</p><p>“Harry want to make Louis close again,” Harry says when they’ve both been quiet for a long time. Harry’s been doing that thing again where he keeps tracing the edges of Louis’s stubble and hairline, his favourite way to spend their quiet time together.</p><p>“What?” Louis asks as Harry’s finger traces over his lower lip.</p><p>“Harry make Louis close again.”</p><p>Huh? Louis's bewildered. Make cl— Oh. It dawns on him. <em> I’m close. </em> That’s what he had said. His cheeks burn at the realization.</p><p>“Oh, I—, oh,” Louis struggles. It’s not that he doesn’t want that, because he really does. But he shouldn’t stay in the saltwater much longer and Harry shouldn’t get further onto the sand. It’s the strangest of crossroads.</p><p>“Louis like this,” Harry says, and as if reading Louis’s mind, goads Louis first onto his back and then lifts his lower body so that it is propped over the curve of Harry’s tail. Louis’s shoulder blades remain pressed into the sand but his bum is raised into the air, resting over Harry’s warm, smooth scales. The angle is a bit awkward but it works, lifting Louis off the water almost completely. It also makes Louis feel like he’s presenting himself, makes him want to bend his legs and hold them close to his body, giving Harry easy access to <em> everything</em>. He thinks what he must look like, and heat swims in his stomach.</p><p>“Um, Harry,” Louis begins almost shyly but Harry’s already tugging at the waistband of Louis’s shorts and shamelessly groping him.</p><p>“Harry make Louis close,” he repeats, mumbling against Louis’s neck.</p><p>“Okay, uh, okay,” Louis says, relaxing into Harry’s touch and just letting himself be, be held and feel taken care of. “Okay,” he repeats, clearing his throat. His abs quiver in the strange angle when he helps Harry push his shorts down and off. They almost succeed but in the awkward position the shorts, wet and sticking to Louis’s skin, remain hanging from his left calf. Neither of them care.</p><p>Louis’s not quite fully hard yet, a miracle in itself, but Harry seems to find it fascinating. He peers at Louis curiously and Louis feels himself start to throb from just his gaze alone. Harry cups Louis with his big hand, exploring the still soft flesh. It doesn’t take long for Louis to fill up under his touch while Harry’s gaze keeps flickering between Louis’s face and his groin.</p><p>“Louis?” he asks, sounding unsure although he’s doing marvelously already, fingers wrapping around Louis’s length and starting to pump him. Like this is something he’s always been doing, stroking Louis exactly the way he likes, twisting a little at the head, exactly the right pressure around his shaft.</p><p>But it makes Louis remember himself, remember the mental notes he’d made after last time he’d found himself in this position. Last time he had been stunned to near silence, almost forgetting to give Harry the praise he so much deserves. This time, he won’t let that happen.</p><p>“Yeah, making me feel so good already,” he tells Harry. “Your hand feels so good around my cock.”</p><p>“Cock?” Harry asks. “Cock,” he repeats, lips pursing adorably around the word.</p><p>Louis barks out laughing, he can’t help it. He can’t believe he’s both endeared and ridiculously turned on by it. “Yeah, cock,” he says, gesturing down at himself. “Dick.”</p><p>“Dick?” Harry says, eyebrows scrunching. His hand has stilled around Louis, like he needs all his concentration for this important lesson.</p><p>“Yeah, dick. Same thing as cock,” Louis says, fighting a burst of chuckles. “Balls,” he says, groping himself.</p><p>“Balls,” Harry repeats. “Balls.” He’s tilting his chin a little. His hand travels lower and cups Louis down there. “Balls.”</p><p>Louis laughs which turns into a moan when Harry fingers fumble and pull a little. “Yes,” he hisses. “<em>Fuck</em>,” he curses breathlessly.</p><p>“Fuck?” Harry asks. Louis is certain no one has ever sounded so innocent while groping someone’s balls and cursing.</p><p>“Fuck means... it’s just a…” The truth is it’s a little bit too much for Louis to start to explain when all his attention is between his legs, when Harry’s hand is traveling even lower. Before Louis can fully process it, he’s hooked his leg and pulled it closer to his body for easier access. His body jolts when Harry’s fingertip brushes over his rim, stopping in its tracks right <em> there</em>.</p><p>“Louis?” Harry asks softly.</p><p>“It’s... yeah, it’s good,” Louis mumbles, coherence suddenly feeling like a herculean feat. “Good,” he repeats, blinking up at the darkening sky, coloured purple by the last rays of the sun.</p><p>Of course, <em> of course </em> Harry gently explores him down there too. His fingertips circles around Louis’s rim, feeling around the puckered skin. Louis feels himself twitch against Harry’s finger, anticipating the feeling of something <em> inside </em>of him, before he can stop himself. He groans when Harry’s dry fingertip pushes in just slightly, barely to the first knuckle. “Ah, ah,” Louis moans, squirming against the touch helplessly.</p><p>It’s good, it’s nothing much at all but it’s still <em>so fucking good</em>. Louis’s cock is hard, so hard, although no one is touching it now, precum seeping from his slit and dripping onto his stomach.</p><p>“Harry, that’s—that’s wonderful, but here, here, please,” Louis stutters, pulling Harry’s hand to wrap his magnificent, large fist around his cock. Harry catches on quickly, starting to pump his fist again, the glides eased by how much Louis's dripping already.</p><p>“That’s it, darling, so good,” Louis moans, already out of his head a little. There’s a delicious tingling that spreads all the way down to his toes and Louis knows it’s all going to be over very soon, embarrassingly so. He turns his head and sees Harry watching him, not at where his hand is but at Louis’s face. His gaze is intense and warm, boring into Louis as their eyes lock.</p><p>Louis feels good, feels gorgeous, like Harry’s marveling at him. Louis’s breath catches and he fights against the impulse to close his eyes as a fresh wave of pleasure rocks his body. His toes curl and he shouts, his fingers digging into the wet sand. “Such a—good—boy,” he grunts, choking on his own breath and hiccuping.</p><p>“Louis,” Harry whispers, his voice full of awe and adoration, and that’s Louis’s downfall again. His cock shoots into Harry’s fist and onto his own stomach, hot spurts that seem to go on forever. There’s moaning, and only belatedly Louis identifies the source to be himself. He deflates and a wet smacking sound is created by the force of his back hitting the sand below him. He lays there, gasping for air for a long moment, Harry’s palm rubbing his stomach.</p><p>“Louis feel good?” Harry asks after a while and Louis turns his head to look at him. It’s his insistence on <em> being </em> good, on making <em> Louis </em> feel good, that makes it all feel so pure and perfect. Or maybe it’s just Harry, pure and perfect without trying.</p><p>“Harry, let me,” Louis says, reaching to pull his shorts back on and sit upright in the wet sand, “let me hold you, like this.” Harry looks at him in confusion but Louis helps him move so that he’s resting with his back to Louis’s chest while still being able to keep his tail in the water. Only the tip is fully submerged, but it seems to do the trick anyway, water lapping gently at the sides of his tail and keeping him content. Harry’s scales sparkle and glimmer in the setting sun, causing flickers of light to dance around them.</p><p>“You want me to touch you?” Louis murmurs into Harry’s ear and buries his nose into his soft curls. He feels Harry nod, vicariously. “Yeah? I want to touch your beautiful body, make you feel so good all over, Harry. I promise I’ll make you feel so, <em> so </em> good.” It feels exhilarating, knowing that Louis <em> can </em> do that now, knows how. Every single muscle of his body is still heavy from his orgasm but he wants this so badly, wants to see Harry unravel in his arms again.</p><p>It’s gorgeous how Harry surrenders himself completely and instantly, body going loose and relaxed against Louis’s chest. “Louis,” Harry murmurs, bringing Louis’s palms to his own torso and Louis really needs no further encouragement. He starts dragging his hands up and down Harry’s upper body, feeling out the shape of his ab muscles peeking through the soft skin. Harry starts to vibrate when Louis rubs his sides, feels the softer skin right under the pits of his arms.</p><p>“That’s it, sweetheart,” Louis encourages him, no longer concerned about the strengthening tremors running through Harry’s body but spurred on by them. When he dips his hands lower to feel around the barest hint of softness around Harry’s belly, Harry’s tail wriggles against the sand. “Hmm, you like that? You like it when I touch your little tummy?” Louis murmurs. He’s very, very gentle when he dips the pad of his thumb into Harry’s belly button. Harry whines, high in his throat, squirming hard against Louis.</p><p>Once he’s gotten started, it feels like the words flow out of him without much thought. Harry rests his head on the nook of Louis’s shoulder, breathing heavily, lips open. “So pretty, baby,” Louis murmurs, kissing the side of his jaw, anywhere he can reach. “Does that feel nice?” he coos when he reaches Harry’s little pecs and squeezes.</p><p>“Ah, ah, Louis, ah!” is Harry’s general answers to everything at this point. His body is starting to twitch and quiver rhythmically, like he’s trying to bury himself into Louis’s chest. Louis keeps squeezing him experimentally, almost like he’s milking him, thumbs flicking over the pink nipples. It earns him gasped moans, cut-off shouts of his own name.</p><p>“Yeah?” he asks, thrilled by Harry’s reaction. “That’s so good, Harry, you’re <em> so </em> good. These are my favourite little things, you know that?” he asks, bordering on teasing, rubbing the hardened nipples between his forefinger and thumb. He sucks Harry’s earlobe into his mouth, squeezing again. He’s intoxicated by Harry’s heavy weight in his arms, the salty scent of his skin, the softness of his curls tickling the side of his face. His little, kitten-like moans are like a drug to Louis, endorphins released in his brain with every little, high and desperate sound.</p><p>“Harry, baby, let me look at you,” he says, turning Harry’s face gingerly towards him, mindful of his neck. Harry’s eyes are glassy, struggling to focus on anything, flickering over Louis’s face.</p><p>“Lou,” he whispers. It sounds like he’s saying it from somewhere very far away, despite them being as close as they could possibly be.</p><p>“Oh, my baby,” Louis breathes. Harry’s lips look reddened, like he’s been biting them. Louis ducks down to kiss him, to suck at his lower lip hungrily. “You gonna show me how good you can feel, hm? Let me watch you?” he murmurs against Harry’s mouth. He flattens his palms and rubs them up and down Harry’s long torso, giving him as much skin-on-skin contact as he possibly can. He squeezes when he gets down at Harry’s hips and squeezes when’s back up at Harry’s chest.</p><p>“Lou—Lou—Louis,” Harry gasps, his voice cut off by the tremors of his own body. Louis kisses him, kisses all over his face, murmuring soft ‘<em>yeah, yeah </em>’s to encourage him. His hands roam all over Harry’s upper body and arms, neck and face blindly, hungrily, anywhere he can reach. Harry’s back bows off Louis’s chest and he <em> screams</em>, honest-to-god, wails like a dying man and Louis feels wetness against his hand cradling Harry’s cheek.</p><p>“Shh, shh, baby, it’s okay, you did so well, so, so well,” Louis croons, wiping the corners of his eyes. Harry crumbles against him, his whole body going limp in Louis’s hold. He hiccups and Louis kisses the nape of his neck, the sides of his jaw again, murmuring softly, goading little answers out Harry to know that he’s alright, that he’s still feeling good.</p><p>Louis wraps his arms tightly around Harry’s still quivering form and squeezes him to his chest, cradling his sides with his bent legs. They stay there, speaking softly about everything and nothing, the topic of their conversation far less important than their closeness.</p><p>The night is already pitch black when Louis finally drags himself to his tent to sleep. He feels drowsy and deliciously tired. His muscles ache but he’s not able to wipe the grin of his face. He falls asleep thinking of Harry, who’s sleeping soundly just a few metres away, safely tucked behind a little sandbank near the shore.</p><p>The next day goes by like a dream. Hazy, like there’s a baby pink filter over Louis’s vision. They frolic in the water, swim after colourful flocks of small fish, kiss. Louis teaches Harry to spell his name, and they find little seashell to write it into the sand with. But mostly they hold each other, cling onto each other’s touch like the world’s about to end. </p><p>Louis feels like they’re the two only living species on the planet, just them and the little ocean creatures that visit their private beach. Two small sting rays appear around midday and they feed them left-over fish guts. They find a small patch of corals a little bit further out and a giant clam, stuck in the white, sandy ocean-floor. Louis gets to watch Harry in action when he spears a large hogfish, effortlessly like a skilled predator only could. It’s a perfect contrast to Harry’s sweet face and demeanor, and a reminder to Louis of the power and fierceness within him, of the ocean within him.</p><p>It is only after their trip that Louis’s mind starts to buzz. Louis feels like he’s coming down from a high, and everything looks dull and grey in comparison. He finds himself thinking that a life without Harry just won’t be possible for him anymore. If he has half a chance of keeping Harry in his life, he knows he can’t not take it. </p><p>Louis, who’s always prided himself in dodging commitment like plague, doesn’t want to think of a future that isn’t with Harry, for Harry, about Harry.</p><p>It terrifies him. It terrifies him to no end. But it’s the thought of leaving the island when his contract ends and never seeing Harry again, having no way to contact him again, that brings him true agony. It’s a searing pain in his chest, an iron weight in his limbs. When he thinks of it all, when he’s back alone in his room, he feels like a lost cork, bobbing out to the open sea without control. </p><p>(**)</p><p>Louis is feeling disproportionately excited for so early in the morning. The sun has barely started to rise, the sky still painted in hues of lavender and cobalt.</p><p>It’s been a week since his and Harry’s trip to the turtle island. The week hasn’t been much different to any other, Louis meeting Harry almost every day at the coral beds. It’s nice and feels easy, perfectly natural, almost as if Louis’s life had always been this way, constructed around the moments when he gets to see Harry. Their long afternoons sometimes turn into extended kissing sessions that sometimes end with Harry’s hand stuck in Louis’s swimming trunks, sometimes with Harry shivering uncontrollably against Louis, sweet moans like honey in Louis’s ear. Sometimes they just swim, chasing fish or scrutinizing the corals, or playing silly games, giggling and shrieking, splashing in the water like children.</p><p>As easy and sweet as his time with Harry is, it does nothing to ease Louis’s internal struggles. He spends more nights than not staying up late, tossing and turning, unable to escape the magnitude of his feelings.</p><p>But this morning offers a nice distraction. Him and all of his colleagues from the lab have been packed into a fishing boat and they’re heading north. A large group of manta rays have been spotted there near an old shipwreck just a few days earlier.</p><p>Everybody is already in their diving gear and once the boat has been anchored, it doesn’t take long for everyone to plop into the water, one by one, and start to descend into the blue depths. Louis’s the last one off the boat, most inexperienced, but insisting on not needing any help while struggling with his fins.</p><p>Of course, there’s an issue with his oxygen tank. He barely has started to swim when he notices there’s something wrong and has to haul himself back up on the boat. It takes them a good fifteen minutes to figure out a blockage in the valve before Louis can set off again. Olive, who's been left on the boat to keep watch, waves at him when he finally hops back into the water. Then Louis starts his descent, following a rope into the depths, it’s other end firmly clasped in the fist of the first diver from their group somewhere below him. Bit by bit, everything around him gets darker and darker, the water filtering less and less light to the depths with every kick of his fins. All he can hear is his own breath sucking fresh oxygen from his tank.</p><p>There’s a flash of green and something’s grabbing him, hard by the elbow. Louis shouts inside his mask, sending a burst of bubbles through the water. Panic floods him, rendering him momentarily immobile, before he starts to kick and trash against the hold. But when he starts to swing his arm he sees green and silver.</p><p>It’s Harry. And he’s tucking at him frantically, his fingers slipping over Louis’s skin and his short-sleeved wetsuit. He scratches almost hard enough to break skin with his blunt fingernails. Louis tries to stop him but there’s no way to fight the way his strong tail kicks them back towards the surface in no time.</p><p>Their heads pop above the surface by the rear of the boat.</p><p>“Louis. Get back on the boat,” Harry says as soon as they’re above the water. He’s still gripping at him hard, already starting to push Louis towards the ladder. His voice sounds muffled through Louis’s oxygen mask and Louis yanks it off.</p><p>“Harry, I’m fine. This is an oxygen tank,” he says, gesturing at the tank on his back all the while trying to fight against Harry’s arms pushing him. “I can swim with this, even deep down there,” he explains, smiling gently.</p><p>Luckily Olive’s busy chatting with their captain in Syawlian so they can’t hear them. Her bright laugh echoes over the water.</p><p>“No, Louis, it’s dangerous here. Get back in the boat.” Harry sounds frantic. He has taken Louis’s hand and forced him to take hold of the ladder.</p><p>“Harry, I’m fine!” Louis repeats, huffing exasperatedly. “Everyone else’s already down there. We’re trying to spot the manta.”</p><p>Harry pushes himself so close to Louis their foreheads almost knock together and Louis’s eyes cross. “Louis, there’s great white swimming down there. A baby whale died this morning. The carcass is laying in the bottom. They’re aggressive, Louis, they’re territorial and there’s many of them,” Harry huffs into his face. It’s the fastest Louis’s ever heard him speak.</p><p>Louis’s body flashes cold all over.</p><p>“Get back on the boat, Louis,” Harry whines and this time Louis listens to him, putting his feet on the ladder.</p><p>“Harry, are you sure- but what about-”, he stutters. Before he gets to say anything more, Harry’s pushed him fully up the ladder and onto the small deck at the back of the boat, and then he disappears into the water. “Harry, no!” Louis shouts.</p><p>For a second Louis considers falling back into the water. But he realises in defeat that even then, there’s not much he could do. It’s not like he could ever catch up with Harry, let alone drag him onto the boat.</p><p>He scrambles up and yanks his flippers off. He starts shouting while he’s still hopping on one leg, trying to get the other one off. “Olive, Olive! Emergency call now!”</p><p>He runs up to the front deck, slipping and sliding. “Olive, there’s a swarm of sharks. Push the emergency alert,” he pants. He’s struggling to get the oxygen tank off his back.</p><p>“Louis, what the fuck,” Olive responds. “Did you see a shark?” She sounds like Louis’s tripping on acid. There hasn’t been a shark sighting in the area in months.</p><p>It’s not like Louis can explain how he actually knows about the sharks. “Yes, Olive, sharks, plural. Great white! Press the damn button!” he practically screams. The oxygen tank is finally off his back. He lunges at the rope sinking into the water and starts pulling. That’s not their usual emergency tactic, he doesn’t think, he doesn’t even know if the divers can tell a difference so deep. But he can’t just stand there doing nothing. He pulls the rope short and long intervals, signaling distress.</p><p>Relief floods him when Olive finally taps the watch in her wrist. Immediately, a red emergency signal beeps loudly in an identical watch in Louis’s wrist, flashing red. He’s suddenly, overwhelmingly grateful that their boss Carol is a tech nerd, hence the whole team having their state of the art diving watches on them.</p><p>The relief lasts for mere seconds. All of the others are still above the water. Harry’s still down there, in shark-infested, whale-blood thickened waters. Panic wrenches Louis’s gut. There’s no panic button for Harry, no way to lift him to safety. There’s not even an emergency medical kit for him or taking him to the doctor’s…</p><p>Louis closes his eyes. The panic is a tangible, physical thing that strikes his limbs with pain and closes around his throat.</p><p>It takes too long. It takes way too damn long before the crew’s heads pop up above the water, one by one. They all are perfectly safe, calm but baffled of the sudden intrusion. Last comes Carol. She pulls the mask off her face whilst still in the water. “What's going on?” she shouts.</p><p>“Louis saw a shark,” Olive says. She sounds bored, like she’s had to endure a child's silly antics.</p><p>“Sharks,” Louis grits his teeth. He helps the divers get back on the boat, one by one. “There’s sharks, Carol. Multiple. Great white.”</p><p>“What?” she sounds incredulous. “There haven’t been great whites in here in ages, are you su—”</p><p>“Yes, I’m sure!” Louis howls. He’s getting frustrated and everyone is getting on the boat way too slowly and there’s still nothing he can do about Harry being down there. He wants to cry and he wants to get back in the water to find Harry, and he wants to crawl out of his skin from panic because neither of those things would help a damn thing.</p><p>Finally, Carol climbs on to the boat and they pull up the ladder. The whole team is sitting on the side bench, crumbling and wriggling out of their gear. Flippers get thrown off, still full oxygen tanks clonk against the metallic floor of the boat. Louis sits down at the edge of the bench and hangs his head. His hands are shaking.</p><p>“Louis—?” Carol starts but doesn’t finish. Louis looks up at her. She still looks at him like she doesn’t believe him.</p><p>“Please, Carol, let’s just rain check for a couple of days. Today’s not the day,” he says. He knows the manta don’t wait around. After a couple of days it’s too late. </p><p>Carol looks at him and doesn't say anything at first. She looks down at her watch. The emergency sign is still flashing red, casting a tint over her wet face. She looks back at Louis. “Okay. But you’re telling me more about what you saw. What size were they? How many was there?” she questions Louis. Of course she’s approaching the matter like a scientist, her face alight with fascination instead of fear.</p><p>“Just… I promise to tell you, Carol, but later, please? Let’s just get back to the island,” he pleads. He’s exhausted. All he can think about is Harry. He doesn’t give a damn what the shark might’ve looked like.</p><p>Carol lets it go. Maybe because Louis’s hand shakes violently when he pushes his wet fringe off his eyes. There’s movement and chatter around him but he no longer pays it any attention. He lets himself succumb. He’s barely aware of the boat engine coming alive below them. He sees flashes of red and massive teeth and broken, pearly skin. Scatter of scales, floating into the depths.</p><p>“Louis, you alright? We’re here now.” Olive’s squeezing his shoulder. She even looks a bit concerned now. “You’ve gone all pale, man. You know sharks are not inherently dangerous towards humans, right?”</p><p>Louis bloody well knows that. It’s a rarity that a shark attacks a human. There hasn’t been a single case known to man around the island ever, probably.</p><p>Harry, however, is not human. He has a tail like fish’s and he’s all soft flesh and no sharp teeth for protection. Even with his slim frame he probably looks like a nice meal, like a baby sea lion, just without all the fur. Right up great white’s culinary alley.</p><p>Bile rises up to Louis’s throat. He swallows forcibly. He grunts, not trusting himself to speak. He clambers onto the dock with the others.</p><p>“Louis, you sure you’re okay?” Carol asks. Louis’s already walking down the dock, leaving the others behind.</p><p>“I’m fine,” he shouts, not looking behind, rushing past the row of docks reserved for bigger boats. Finally he gets on to the one reserved for simple motor boats and jet skis.</p><p>He hops into the dinghy. It’s the only thing he knows to do. He’s speeding out to the sea when the rest of the crew are still walking down the seaside boulevard, chattering happily. Louis steers the boat, eyes not really seeing anything as he stares into the horizon, brain on autopilot. </p><p>He sees Harry, resting against the rocks by the coral beds, already far from the distance. It’s a sight his eyes have been trained to spot over the past few months and he’s sure it’s him even when he’s just a dot in the distance. He doesn’t slow down the dinghy like he usually would but drives right by the rocks, not caring if he might hit the motor. He sees it, already before he’s out of the boat - there’s a thin stream of blood, dripping down Harry’s back.</p><p>In contrast, Harry’s smiling happily as ever, all white teeth on show. “Louis!” Harry shouts. </p><p>“Harry, you’re hurt, there’s blood!” Louis exclaims, flopping into the water, his sight a tunnel vision.</p><p>“It’s just a little cut,” Harry says, shrugging. He’s still smiling, wrapping his arms around Louis’s waist. It’s really nice, but—</p><p>“Harry, let me have a look.” He turns him so that he can get a proper look at his shoulder. There’s two thin cuts, side by side. It’s clear that the fresh blood makes it look much worse than it is. Louis feels like he exhales for the first time since Harry first pulled him out of the water. “Is this all? Are your hurt anywhere else?” he asks, already looking around Harry’s body. He spots two scales missing on the side of his tail. Other than that he looks just like always.</p><p>Harry nods, curls shaking. “Shark only nudged me,” he says, sounding happy. Christ. Well, Louis supposes it is correct. Being ‘only nudged’ by a great white is probably akin to friendly tap from a jigsaw. Just an accidental swipe, barely a touch, could easily break skin like this.</p><p>“Harry, there’s—” He stops himself. Inside one of the cuts, there’s a tiniest glint of something. “Wait there,” he says, tapping Harry’s cut-free shoulder.</p><p>From his dinghy Louis retrieves his surgical tweezers he uses to gather samples of the coral. Harry looks at him curiously.</p><p>“This might sting a little,” Louis says, positioning Harry again. Harry doesn’t make a single sound, doesn’t even flinch a little bit when Louis extracts the tiny shark tooth embedded into his skin. It’s thin, about the size of the nail on Louis’s forefinger, and sharp as hell. Fresh blood dribbles out of Harry’s wound when Louis pulls the tooth out, thin dripplets colouring Harry’s back. Louis washes it away and washes the cut until there’s only a tiniest hint of pink there. He inspects it again. No new blood comes to the surface. He decides to keep a close eye on it, but shows Harry the tooth.</p><p>“Look.” He holds it in his palm. “Careful, it’s sharp,” he says when Harry reaches towards it.</p><p>Harry looks at him meaningfully as if to say, “<em>duh</em>.” They stare at each other for a moment and then both burst out laughing. It’s not even that funny, Louis just feels so much better. Lighter. Harry’s okay, he’s going to be okay. The relief is so intense it makes Louis’s arms and legs tingle.</p><p>“God, I was scared,” Louis exhales when they finally catch their breath.</p><p>“I swim fast. Louis doesn’t have to worry,” Harry says. It’s almost as big a shock to hear Harry refer to himself in first person. His language skills have improved by leaps and bounds lately, and Louis feels almost sad that his endearing broken English is starting to be a thing of the past.</p><p>“<em>You</em> best stay out of danger next time,” Louis emphasizes, grinning and poking Harry in the chest and earning a giggle.</p><p>They decide to put the tooth inside Louis’s leather pouch that’s hanging around his neck inside his wetsuit. Harry’s surprised when Louis pulls out the scale he’s been carrying around. Louis’s never shown it to him before. A strange expression flickers on Harry’s face before something else catches his attention.</p><p>“Louis’s never worn this before,” Harry says while Louis tucks the pouch back inside the neckline of his suit. He is wearing his short-sleeved wetsuit, black with neon yellow sleeves and a bright blue zipper down the front, skin-tight all over like wetsuits are. Harry’s touching his neoprene-covered waist.</p><p>“It’s a wetsuit,” Louis says dumbly. “I wear it for diving.”</p><p>“Hmm,” Harry says. Louis’s wearing the wetsuit every day till the day he dies if it makes Harry look at him like this. Harry’s fingers toy with the zipper in the front but don’t open it.</p><p>“Harry, how did you know we were gonna be there today?” Louis asks after a beat of silence between them.</p><p>Harry doesn’t answer straight away, just keeps fiddling with the edges of Louis’s zipper. “We were keeping an eye on the area. Yesterday there was manta ray, today…” He trails off. His fingers are now playing with the sleeve of Louis’s suit. “Today a baby whale died. The shark came immediately. First nurse sharks and tiger sharks. One bonnethead. This was a tiger shark,” he says, tapping his shoulder.</p><p>Right, Louis thinks. It makes sense, tiger sharks being known for sometimes being aggressive without provocation.</p><p>“Then came the great white. Two. One really big one. Female. We call her Aklot. She’s beautiful, but hungry. She’d come a long way to eat.”</p><p>Louis listens to Harry, stunned to silence. How does Harry know these things? “Harry, who’s we?” he asks eventually. They’ve never talked about this before, about Harry’s kind.</p><p>For a long while Harry doesn’t say anything. This time it takes so long Louis thinks he’s just decided to ignore his question. He’s about to ask more about Aklot, when Harry says, “My herd.”</p><p><em>Herd.</em> That’s definitely more than the little family Louis has back in London. And Louis had definitely only seen Harry in the water back there. He would’ve noticed a herd of merpeople, he thinks. Then again, he hadn’t had time to see much of anything.</p><p>“And if I hadn’t been there… would you have shown yourself? To any of the other divers?” Louis asks slowly.</p><p>Again Harry is silent for a while. “No,” he says eventually. “We cannot show ourselves. My herd was deeper down, further away. They don’t know. I can never tell them about Louis.” He looks deeply sad. </p><p>Louis understands, like nobody else will probably be never able to. Not being able to tell his family and friends about Harry is killing him too. He wants to shout it from the rooftops, tell everyone about how wonderful and beautiful Harry is.</p><p>“But I had to save Louis. I couldn’t—Louis—you—I—,” Harry stutters. It’s usually Louis who’s uncharacteristically at loss for words around Harry. But Louis feels like he understands this too. Maybe they’ve both been pushed to the brink of something, something too big to put in words.</p><p>“Thank you, Harry. Thank you for saving me.”</p><p>During their morning spent sitting and chatting at their trusted spot on the rocks, Harry’s wound heals into a paper cut, a barely there mark. It looks like it won’t even leave a scar. Louis simply accepts it as yet another miracle.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>TBC. What did you think? I would love to hear your thoughts in the comments!</p>
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